LIBRA RY OF CONG RESS, 

Chap. --(jlT.1& lJL5l 

Shelf -G^-fLJC-Cfa 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY 



/ 

ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY 



1866-1891 



a jftemovtal 



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I cannot think he wished so soon to die, 
With all his senses full of eager heat, 

And rosy years that stood expectant by 
To buckle the winged sandals on their feet. 

Lowell 



CAMBRIDGE 

JOHN WILSON AND SON 

©ntutrsttrj $ress 
1892 






THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



i 



weary days and weary nights I 
weary life that binds them all! 
O dreary life, bereft, and bare 
Of earthly hope and joy, — and care. 

barren mystery of life ! 

peaceful death, that ends it all ! 
Rest, folded hands, and pale, cold face, 
Unfretted now, in silent grace. 

happy promise of God's love, 
That turtieth darkness into light! 

Through death, that takes from us the best, 
All shall return to us, — and rest. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Life 9 

Memorial Service and Sermon . . . . 173 
Rev. Nathan H. Harriman. 

Extract from a Sermon 201 

Rev. Benjamin H. Bailey. 

Poems 207 



illustrations. 

PORTRAIT Frontispiece 

From the original by W. T. Robinson, 1891. 

Portrait 171 

From a photograph, 1877. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 



LIFE. 



A RTHUR DELORAINE COREY, the only child 
of Deloraine Pendre and Isabella (Holden) 
Corey, was born at Maiden, Massachusetts, on the 
thirteenth of April, 1866. By both parents he was 
descended from a race of ancestors who had borne 
their part in the settlement and progress of Xew 
England, whose names he often recalled with an 
honorable pride. Of the Plymouth Pilgrims — the 
" first comers,' ' or the passengers of the "May- 
flower," the " Fortune," and the "Ann" — he 
numbered thirteen of those whose blood he bore; 
and the names of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, 
of John Howland and Elizabeth Tilley, those lovers 
of the "Maj'flower," familiar to his childish ears, 
ma} 7- have sunk into his heart and influenced in 
many ways his future character. 

Among his ancestors were Joseph Hills, the com- 
piler of the Massachusetts Laws of 1648, and John 



10 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Wayte, one of the "faction in the generail court " 
denounced by Edmund Randolph in 1682, soldiers 
and co-workers in the Zion of New England, and 
founders, above all others, of the town of Maiden. 
Ezekiel Cheever, the celebrated Latin schoolmaster 
of New England, himself a University man from 
old Cambridge, powerful in the ancient languages 
and in theology as well as in discipline, and his 
compeers, faithful pastors, college-bred in the Mother- 
land, and shining lights in the early churches, may 
have transmitted through the intervening genera- 
tions some of the traits which were conspicuous in 
their descendant. Of the latter were the Rev. Ralph 
Partridge, the first minister of Duxbury, who, ac- 
cording to Cotton Mather, possessed the loftiness 
of an eagle and the innocence of a dove; and his 
son-in-law, the Rev. Thomas Thacher of Weymouth, 
who became the first pastor of the Old South Church 
in Boston. With them were the Rev. John Reyner 
of Plymouth and Dover, and the Rev. Thomas 
Cheever, pastor of Maiden and afterwards the first 
minister of Rumney Marsh, or Chelsea. Of his more 
immediate ancestors, Capt. Joseph Cheever led his 
company at Bunker Hill and Trenton, and was com- 
plimented by Washington; Lieut. John Holden was 
out at the Lexington alarm, and served in the Conti- 
nental army; and Corp. Peter Winsor, youthful and 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 11 

sturdy, a son of the hardy mariners of T*] 3'mouth 
Bay, saw the surrender of Burgoyne and endured 
the privations of Valley Forge. Besides these, there 
were among his ancestors church elders and faithful 
town officers, hardy farmers and mechanics of all 
trades, — God-fearing men and ardent patriots in 
their days and generations. He used to say that 
he was a Puritan of Puritans born, and that he had 
a right to be proud of his heritage. I think he 
never lost this pride of birth, even when abroad; 
and it is certain that he returned to his home with 
his Americanism unimpaired. He despised the af- 
fectation which takes on foreign airs because they 
are foreign; but he reverenced the feeling that keeps 
a German a German, or makes a thorough English- 
man of an Englishborn. 

The little acts of children and their sayings are 
things that remain in our hearts. They are, per- 
haps, the most abiding memories of life. They can- 
not be told, for we cannot convey to another the 
sense of the unheard music that they strike upon 
the chords of our souls. We cannot express the 
sweetness and innocence of those things that have 
come to be a part of our inner life. Only those 
who have known their children by the closest ties 
of sympathy and companionship can fully feel the 
inexhaustible charm of the thoughts that go back 



12 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

to the early years of our children. How dear to us 
are those quaint sayings, those outbursts of child- 
ish wisdom, those subtile questionings that we could 
not answer, those grotesque fancies ! With a greater 
charm and a deeper fulness do they come to us when 
we see them through a mist of tears. Around the 
life of the little boy gathered in rich profusion those 
precious things that have become the treasures of 
our hearts. We see him in memory as a laughing, 
golden-haired child, full of life and fun, full of grav- 
ity and wonder, — his face now rippling with laugh- 
ter, his eyes now flooded with tears, as his baby joys 
or sorrows came to him. Speech came to him early 
with remarkable clearness, and he used it to express 
his thoughts and needs with readiness and ease. 
With a child's wisdom he thought out the difficult 
problems of his little life, settling his troubles some- 
times in his own way. A peculiar trait of his early 
childhood was that he always fulfilled his promises. 
A bargain made was never broken, however hard it 
might become in its fulfilment. He seemed to have 
an instinctive idea of justice that prompted him to 
regard the rights of others, and made him strenuous 
for his own rights as well. Truth seemed to be a 
second nature with him, for he never dissembled or 
equivocated. His conscientiousness held him to a 
strict accountability to himself. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 13 

As a child, he was of a constitution which made 
it desirable that he should not enter school for sev- 
eral years; but by his natural quickness of compre- 
hension and his remarkable memory, he gathered 
knowledge so easily and rapidly that at the age of 
five years lie was far in advance of those who were 
older and had attended school during several terms. 
Books were his toys as soon as he knew his letters, 
and were held as his chiefest treasures; but withal, 
he was a child as simple and unconstrained as if 
honks were not and study had not entered into his 
life. In his play, full of life, and thought as well, 
he peopled his mimic world with a race of beings 
who joined in his sports and for the time were as 
real to him as living children. Then, when the 
hours devoted to his books came, he left them with- 
out regret, and with fidelity and pleasure returned 
to his studies, which he followed with an earnestness 
of purpose that belongs to students of older years. 
In this he showed an honesty which followed him 
through life, which prompted him to fulfil all tasks 
and requirements with equal thoroughness, whether 
they were trivial or important. He may sometimes 
have delayed the performance of a duty or work, but 
when it was once begun it was never shirked or 
imperfectly performed. 

His capacity for study increased with the growth 



14 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

of his mind. So facile was the acquirement of 
knowledge to him that it seemed sometimes as if 
learning were intuitive. This trait was never lost 
by him. Through life he was a close student, never 
a hard one. There was no labor in his method, as 
labor is understood; there was a quiet reading, va- 
ried by intervals of thought, and the task was accom- 
plished. By some imperceptible but powerful effort 
he had taken the subject into his mind, and hence- 
forth it was there, classified and ready for use when 
he should need it. Those who knew him best in 
after years know how he could call out of his mem- 
ory the most exact information upon matters of 
which he had not heard or thought for a long time. 

As he grew in years, frequent but not serious at- 
tacks of illness still prevented his going into the 
public schools; but he had the best of teachers, a 
careful and loving mother, who, getting a close ac- 
quaintance with the schools by frequent visits, kept 
her pupil in advance of the classes to which he nat- 
urally would have belonged. He used to say, after- 
wards, that it was a matter of surprise to him, when 
he first went to school, that he had only to recite a 
little of the lesson, while with his mother he had 
to repeat it all. Undoubtedly, these earlier years 
of study deepened and strengthened the idea of 
thoroughness in his mind, and influenced his future 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 15 

course. Thus, the earnest care of the mother and 
the conscientious care of the child were laying deep 
foundations for the coming years. 

At length, most of the ills of his earlier years 
having disappeared, at the age of nine y^ears he was 
scut to the Centre Grammar School, which, by reason 
of the destruction by fire of the house on Pleasant 
Street, was then held in the High School building 
on Salem Street. This school was then under the 
charge of Air. George A. Littlefield, a progressive 
and successful teacher. Here his acquirements 
placed him at once among those of advanced years, 
while his youth and his delicate appearance gained 
him the playful title of "the Baby." 

On the third day of his attendance, the three 
upper classes of the school were joined in a spell- 
ing-match. It was said that some of the scholars 
expressed dissatisfaction at having so small a boy 
on their side. Little could have been expected of 
the youngest and smallest of them all; but as the 
floor was cleared by successive failures, the tallest 
boy of the highest class and "the Baby " were left 
standing side by side. After several trials, the 
latter, becoming confused, went down by a mistake, 
which was corrected as soon as it was uttered. The 
book which the holder of the second place received 
from his appreciative teacher was preserved by the 



16 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

little boy among his treasures, and still stands upon 
the book-shelf where he placed it. 

The young scholar advanced rapidly, and was 
graduated the third in the class in 1877, two years 
after he had entered the school. He was at this 
time eleven years old, and the youngest grammar 
school graduate in the town. It is worthy of re- 
mark, as showing the quality of his scholarship, 
that he appeared as the fourth scholar in the town 
in the examinations made for admission to the High 
School. In this examination penmanship, excel- 
lence in which is not a test of scholarship, was 
considered; had it been eliminated he would have 
stood at the head, showing an average of 93.3, the 
three scholars who exceeded him in the committee's 
report having, by the same elimination, averages 
of 92.1, 91.4, and 89.3. 

In the fall of 1877 he was admitted to the High 
School, being the youngest scholar who has ever 
joined the school. The prospect of a college edu- 
cation had taken possession of his mind, and even 
then he was looking forward to a life which would 
be spent in acquiring and imparting knowledge. 
Although at times some thoughts of a life in the 
law or as a physician may have come to him, then 
and afterwards, they were never of moment, and 
were soon dispelled by the stronger longings of his 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 17 

in i nd. A growing taste for the literature of the 
ancients had p<»sessed him, and lie resolved to work 
for all that a classical education could give him. 
When in the second year Ik; began the study of 
Greek, what had before been a liking became a pas- 
sion; and thenceforth he found his greatest pleasure 
in the study and contemplation of the literature 
and art of the Hellenic and Roman worlds. 

The principal of the High School at that time 
was Mr. Charles A. Daniels, a graduate of Harvard 
C 'liege, and a classical scholar of ability and fervor. 
To him Arthur was ever loyal, and he held him in 
the most affectionate remembrance. In the brief 
sketch of his life appended to the dissertation which 
gained him the doctorate at Berlin, he thus refers 
to his old teacher: "jSTeque Carolum Danielsium, 
pra?ceptorem dilectissimum, qui me admodum pue- 
rum in litteras Grrecas primus introduxit, hoc loco 
prrcterire velim." 

The four years of his attendance at the High 
School were marked by the devotion to duty and 
conscientious application to study which had char- 
rized his earlier years. The same readiness to 
receive and retain knowledge remained with him 
and seemed to increase as his mind opened to the 
contemplation of wider fields. Here he began a 
larger acquaintance with books, which he early 
2 



18 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

learned to use with skill. In general, he was not 
a rapid reader. During his High School life he 
probably indulged in a wider range of reading than 
ever afterward, when his special studies became 
more absorbing; and his diaries show a varied but 
well chosen list of books which he read. In this 
there was never haste nor impatience; but he read 
his author from beginning to end, allowing no word 
or idea to escape his thorough comprehension. In 
this he manifested the extreme honesty of his mind, 
which permitted no trifling. Later, when books be- 
came his tools, he showed that he was their master 
by the ease with which he made them to yield only 
that of which he was in need. 

A congenital weakness, which in time he seemed 
to outgrow, prevented him from indulging in the 
rougher and more active sports of boyhood; but he 
enjoyed his holidays and vacations with an eager 
relish, and readily fell out of the usual studious 
habits of his life. At times he occupied his leisure 
in the study and collection of minerals and of coins; 
and like most boys, he had a liking for postage 
stamps, of which, with a boy's ardor, he gathered 
a well-ordered collection in a good condition. He 
also evinced an inherited taste for genealogy and 
local history, which he made to answer a good pur- 
pose in his school compositions and essays; and he 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 19 

made a preliminary collection for a history of the 
Sprague family, which he intended to continue and 
would probably have completed had he lived. 

His record as a scholar in the High School was a 
remarkable one. In the four years of the course he 
was neither absent nor tardy, nor was he ever dis- 
missed. In his studies he was always found above 
the average, except in a single instance, when in 
penmanship, to which I have elsewhere objected, 
lie fell below; and in his deportment, from the be- 
ginning to the end, he constantly maintained the 
highest standard, never having received a single 
mark for misdemeanor. At the close of the school 
in June, 1881, he was graduated at the head of the 
class. It is remembered that his childish appear- 
ance excited much interest when he stepped forward 
to receive his diploma. In the Class Prophecies he 
was referred to as "our smiling little classmate, 
our 'end man/ our only sweet-voiced tenor, " and 
in the Class History as "the pride and darling of 
the class," — playful reminders of the estimation 
in which he was held by his associates. 

On the thirtieth day of June, 1881, being admit- 
ted to the examinations at Cambridge, Arthur real- 
ized one of the aspirations of his life. On the first 
day, while at work in the examination room, he was 
unfortunately taken sick. For the moment he de- 



20 ARTHUR DELORATNB COREY. 

spaired of being able to proceed; but, although he 
lost the rest of that day, he presented himself the 
next morning and accomplished the work of the re- 
maining examinations. With anxiety he awaited 
the result, and it was with much gratification that 
he finally received a certificate of admission to the 
college. This, while it conditioned him in "Cicero 
at sight and Latin composition, " as a result of his 
sudden illness, admitted him with honors, giving 
him ' ' credit in prescribed classics and mathematics, 
and prescribed and elective Greek. 7? As an evi- 
dence of his ability to have passed the conditioned 
subjects, it may be stated that those conditions 
were never called, but were removed by excellence 
in those or kindred subjects during the Ereshman 
year. 

He entered Harvard College on the third day of 
October, 1881, being the youngest of the Freshman 
class. He obtained a quiet room in the house at 
the northwesterly corner of Harvard and Trowbridge 
streets, where he gathered his books and sat himself 
down to work with the steadiness and faithfulness 
which had marked his earlier years. In this house 
he remained until the Senior year, making friends 
of its inmates, and finding many hours of enjoyment 
in the ways to which his simple tastes led him. 
Most of all was he happy while at work in the se- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 21 

elusion of his room and in the class; but he was 
not unmindful of the pleasures which he obtained 
by intercourse with others, especially if they were 
interested in matters which interested him, — better 
still, if they were enthusiasts and could sympathize 
with him in his classical ardor. Although he kept 
his room in Harvard Street, he continued to live at 
home in Maiden, which was not far away; and the 
sober-faced, but cheerful, boy became a familiar 
sight to the car-drivers and conductors, who always 
had a pleasant word for him. 

The Freshman year was given to prescribed 
studies, of which he has left no definite record; but 
I can remember the pleasure which he found in a 
course of lectures on Greek and Roman Literature 
by Assistant-Professor Dyer, to whom he became 
much attached. So well was his work done that, at 
the beginning of the second term, he was admitted 
to the advanced sections in Greek, Latin, and Ger- 
man. At the close of the year he was ranked as the 
seventeenth in a class of two hundred and seven- 
teen members, with an average of ninety per cent 
in his studies. His record is here given from the 
annual rank lists. The mathematical studies were 
followed with a stern sense of duty, but never with 
pleasure, and he rejoiced when he was relieved from 
them. 



22 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

RECORD, 1881-82. 

Maximum Greek . 93 

Maximum Latin 92 

Classical Lectures 97 

German 90 

Solid Geometry 88 

Trigonometry 84 

Analytic Geometry 8S 

Algebra 97 

Minimum Physics 85 

Chemistry 84 

During the summer he was mostly engaged in 
general reading as a means of relaxation, and he 
began reading for second-year Honors. A fortnight 
at the White Mountains gave intensity to his love 
for natural scenery, in which he took a quiet pleas- 
ure. Here, also, he indulged in a quaint habit, 
which he followed from childhood, in getting ac- 
quainted with farmers and workmen, who were al- 
ways ready to gossip with him. Missed one day 
at Jefferson, he was found to have been digging 
potatoes with a newly-found acquaintance, whose 
friendship he gained and valued. Another habit, 
which, was not acquired but natural, was that of 
making friends of elderly people. One such friend- 
ship, contracted in the cars while travelling between 
his home and Cambridge, was that with the late 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 23 

Horatio N. Perkins of Melrose, in which the ripened 
experience of the man and the enthusiasm of the 
scholar gave a charm to their acquaintance, which 
seems to have been pleasant to both. A longer 
friendship was that with the late John H. LaCoste, 
which began at the Isles of Shoals in the golden- 
haired days of the little boy and continued until 
the death of the elder in 1882. The memory of 
his friend was always fresh in his mind, and the 
presents which the child received were carefully 
preserved by the young man. 

At the beginning of the Sophomore year, English 
rhetoric being the only prescribed study, he was 
free to follow the bent of his mind; and his best 
and most earnest efforts were given to the classics. 
His courses as laid out gave him sixteen hours of 
class-work weekly, besides the reading for Honors, 
which he had begun in the summer. 

In December he received a Detur, prized by Har- 
vard men. This distribution of books to merito- 
rious students of one year's standing is made from 
the income of the foundation of Edward Hopkins, 
and is awarded pro insigni in studiis diligentia. At 
the close of the year, his ambition was gratified by 
the reception of highest honors in classics, the cer- 
tificate of which, simply framed, he hung upon the 
wall of his room. With it he placed certificates 



2-1 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

of membership in the Harvard Total Abstinence 
League and the Society of Christian Brethren. The 
three formed a series of shingles, which indicated 
with clearness the character of the young man. His 
habits of study were still those of his earlier years, 
He was always engaged, but never in haste; he 
worked steadily, but never with effort; and when 
the season for study was past, there was usually 
little of fatigue, and his mind was as free as if 
recreation were his only business. The results of 
the second year fulfilled the promise of the first, 
and showed that he had been true to himself, and 
that his mind had been growing broader and stronger 
under the discipline of thought. 

RECORD, 1882-83. 

Greek 1 96 

Greek Composition 91 

Latin 1 93 

Latin Composition 98 

French 2 99 

Philosophy 1 . . . 73 

Sophomore Rhetoric 84 

Sophomore Themes 81 

The vacation of this year was spent partly at 
home, where he showed the ease with which he 
could drop out of his studious life into the simple 
and happy life of a careless boy, and partly in the 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 25 

White Mountains, at Jefferson, where he renewed 
the friendships with the country folk which he had 
formed the year before. 

The prospects of Arthur at the beginning of the 
Junior year were most promising. In good health 
and with abundant energy, he prepared for a year 
of happy labor. His courses as arranged gave him 
eighteen hours of work in the class-rooms each week, 
besides the prescribed Junior themes and forensics; 
and the task appeared light to the ardent student. 
But da} r s and weeks of pain and discouragement, 
rather than of pleasant study, were before him. 

On the seventeenth day of November he came 
home unwell and rapidly grew worse. It was found 
that he was extremely sick with scarlet fever. For 
a time the result seemed doubtful; but a skilful 
physician and the best of nurses, a careful mother, 
in the providence of God, triumphed at last. It 
was not until the third of January that he was able 
to leave the house, and his first visit to Cambridge 
was not until the sixteenth of February. Those 
three months of seclusion held many dark days for 
the disappointed bay. So long a break in his studies 
was serious in itself, and his condition was such 
that his physician advised his withdrawal from the 
college for the remainder of the year. It is proba- 
ble that he would have insisted upon returning to 



26 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Cambridge, had not several of his friends in the 
Faculty urged hiin, in the strongest terms, to re- 
main away. His decision was not easily made, and 
the disappointment caused by dropping out of the 
class of '85 was great. He had formed friendships 
in the class that were dear to him, and he regarded 
as a great misfortune the necessity which separated 
him from them. He never fully recovered from 
that feeling; and one of the saddest days of his 
life, I think, was that on which the class of '85 
was graduated. 

Absence from Cambridge, however, did not mean 
absence from study. Before he had finally left the 
sick chamber he renewed his reading. Towards the 
end of February, he notes in his diary the reading 
of the "Suppliants " of iEschylus, and soon after 
the " Seven Against Thebes.' 7 He also soon be- 
gan a course of Greek reading to assist an old school 
friend, which was continued through the spring and 
summer, in addition to his own systematic reading 
of the Tragedians. With all this he found time for 
much other reading, principally of historical works, 
both in French and English, noting in the latter 
the six volumes of Gibbon's "Eome," which he 
read with his usual conscientious thoroughness. 
During the summer he anticipated some of the 
work of the next year, especially in completing a 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 27 

fchesis, — "A Study of yEschylus." In September 
he spent several days, which lie enjoyed to the ut- 
most, with friends upon the shore of Lake Winni- 
piseogee, and then went to his favorite Jefferson, 
where, with his parents and other friends, he passed 
the most pleasant season of those whieh he spent in 
the heart of the mountains. 

Fully recovered from his sickness, with a body 
refreshed and a mind eager for the study to which 
he looked forward, more eager, perhaps, for the dis- 
appointment and enforced absence of the past year, 
Arthur returned to Cambridge with the highest en- 
thusiasm. His chosen courses for this year covered 
twenty hours of class work each week, besides the 
prescribed theses and forensics. The autumn passed 
pleasantly away, and all the conditions for a year 
fruitful of good results seemed to be his. Under 
the date of Saturday, the twentieth of December, 
he wrote in his diary: — ■ 

" Pleasant and very cold. Thermometer —10° in the 
morning. Had an hour examination in Philosophy 5." 

He wrote no more until the tenth of February, 
when he made the following entry: — 

• A regular January thaw with rain, but clear at night. 
I have now sufficiently recovered from typhoid fever to 
recommence my diary, though as yet I write in bed and 
sit up only long enough to have my bed made." 



28 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

On the day first mentioned, lie returned home a 
little indisposed. A typhoid fever rapidly devel- 
oped, and on Monday he was unable to leave his 
bed. The fever was long and severe ; and at last, 
ulceration of the bowels began. Very nearly then 
was the career of the young student closed. The 
pain and weariness of the body were all but lost to 
him in the mental pain and disappointment which 
he felt, as for the second time his plans were broken 
and his hopes seemed about to pass away. Hap- 
pily, with the care of his physician, his dear friend 
and kinsman, and the watchful nursing, again, of 
a tender mother, by God's will, death, which seemed 
so near, departed from him, and the disease in its 
complications abated. 

On the fourteenth of March he was able to. go out 
of the house. At first it seemed as if he might be 
obliged to lose another year. The prospect was a 
grievous one to him; but as his strength increased, 
he resolved to make an effort to pass the regular 
examinations. On the 9th of March, although at 
that time he had not been able to sit at the family 
meals, he wrote: "Began regularly to make up 
back work." Fears that so long an absence might 
seriously interfere with his progress were a constant 
trouble to him; but he found strength and an in- 
centive for effort in the ready sympathy of those 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 29 

professors whose approbation he most valued. "I 
am truly sorry, " wrote one, "to hear that you have 
had such obstacles in your college course. We need 
you very much to help put a little life into the di- 
vision, and when you come back you may study as 
much or as little as you think fit." "I am sure," 
wrote another, "the Faculty will be ready to grant 
every possible indulgence to one who has had such 
an excellent record in the past, and who has suffered 
such an accumulation of misfortunes. " 

It was a happy day when he went to Cambridge 
for the first time after his second absence. Soon 
after, he passed a "make up" examination; and on 
the eighth of April he renewed his regular work, 
dropping, however, three extra courses with which 
he had begun the year. Until this time he had 
continued the practice of returning to Maiden each 
night; but he now remained at Cambridge through 
the week. This was an important gain, as it gave 
him opportunities, which he gladly improved, of a 
larger intercourse with those whose acquaintance 
and esteem he had learned to value. In those daj T s 
friendships were formed or enlarged that were life- 
long pleasures to him, that in the clear mental 
vision of his dying hours were recalled with ear- 
nestness and love. His diaries are filled with notes 
of the pleasant ways in which he passed his brief 



30 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

seasons of relaxation, now calling upon a favorite 
instructor, now dropping in upon a classical man, 
or welcoming one to his own room. 

There were earnest and ardent minds in the little 
classical circle of instructors and students which was 
insensibly brought together, and which had a quick- 
ening influence upon classical work in the Univer- 
sity. Its members are scattered now, some in death, 
some have carried their earnestness and ardor to en- 
rich the scholarship of other institutions; but they 
have left their impress upon the University which 
they honored. Out of this circle came the Classical 
Club, which held its first meeting at the room of 
Charles P. Parker, on the twenty-third of October, 
1885. The professors and instructors of the Greek 
and Latin departments of the University were mem- 
bers of the club, ex officiis, and students and resident 
graduates, who had received second-year Honors, were 
eligible to membership. At that time Harvard had 
obtained in some quarters an anti-classical reputa- 
tion, although its departments were graced by the 
names of Allen, Croswell, Dyer, Goodwin, Green- 
ough, Lane, Smith, and White; and the Classical 
Club was considered as a protest against this un- 
founded opinion. The devoted classical feeling and 
zeal of the original members of the club gave it 
a healthy and helpful life, which it still main- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 31 

tains. In the formation of this club Arthur was 
active; and he was the secretary of the organiza- 
tion, — its only officer, until he left Cambridge in 
1887. 

Residence in Cambridge, while it gave opportuni- 
ties for his own improvement, gave him opportunities 
to influence others by example and personal appeals. 
With a fresh interest, he now entered into the work 
of the Harvard Total Abstinence League, of which 
he had been a member since January, 1883; and 
following the deep religious instincts of his mind, 
he soon allied himself with the Society of Christian 
Brethren. In the work of the latter society he en- 
gaged with the simple sincerity which characterized 
him. 

In the meantime, his studies were pursued with 
ever increasing eagerness. On one day he notes the 
reading of about fifteen hundred and fifty lines of 
Greek tragedy, which in his thoroughness was no 
idle task. And so the year passed away and the 
closing days of '85 came. Sad was its Class Day 
to him. Sadder, even, was Commencement; but he 
rejoiced with his friends and classmates in the tri- 
umphs they had won, sorrowing only that he might 
not stand with them at the end. 



32 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY, 

RECORD, 1884-85. 

Greek 6 80 

Greek 9 , . . . . 98 

Latin 6 .... 93 

Latin 7 .88 

French 3 . 99 

Junior Themes 78 

Junior Forensics 98 

At the beginning of the Senior year, Arthur re- 
moved from Harvard Street to equally pleasant 
rooms at number 12 Plympton Street, where he 
lived during the two years which remained to him 
in Cambridge. His courses this year ran upon the 
former lines of study, except that he began to show 
an inclination towards classical archaeology, to which 
he afterwards gave more attention. In this field, 
the lectures of Dr. Fowler and the study of Pau- 
sanias laid a foundation upon which he built with 
success in Berlin, 

During the winter a proposition was brought for- 
ward to change the Christian Brethren from an in- 
dependent society to a branch of the Inter-collegiate 
Young Men's Christian Association. This was 
defeated at first, but was carried after a discussion 
of several months. This change was strongly op- 
posed by many of the members, among whom Arthur 
was prominent. It was argued that this society, 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 33 

one of the oldest in the University, should continue 
to be, distinctively, a Harvard organization, free 
from all possibilities of outside influence or inter- 
ference, — that its best opportunities for good results 
lav in that direction. Other reasons of more or less 
moment existed, and for a time the contest ran 
high. After the final vote, a movement was made 
to carry the matter before the authorities of the 
University, and papers were drawn for that purpose; 
but a better feeling soon prevailed, and the pros- 
perity of the Christian Brethren suffered no abate- 
ment under the new conditions. 

In January Arthur received a Bowdoin prize for 
a dissertation on "The Dionysiac Theatre/' the 
copy of which is supposed to have been accidentally 
destroyed. In this dissertation, which he read in 
public at Sever Hall on the twenty-sixth of April, his 
growing fondness for archaeological investigations 
began to be apparent, although, as yet, he seems 
to have been unaware that his mind was slowly 
swinging from a purely philological direction in 
the changing tide. This tendency, though in a 
less degree, may be found in a paper on "The 
Parodos in Greek Tragedy, " which he presented to 
the Classical Club at a meeting in his room about 
the same time. 

On the ninth of March he was elected to member- 
3 



34 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

ship in the old society of the Fraternity of Phi 
Beta Kappa, which since 1776 has held in its 
circle the highest scholarship of the university. 
This was especially welcome to him, as he had 
feared that his year of absence, which had destroyed 
his chance of election from the class of '85, had 
prevented his consideration in that of '86. 

The Class Day of '86 was on Friday, the twenty- 
fifth of June. The day, which was cloudy at first, 
with light showers during the afternoon, was in its 
outward manifestations the most unpropitious which 
had fallen to the lot of any class for years; but it 
failed to dampen the ardor of those light-hearted 
youth to whom the day belonged. The promena- 
ders were as happy, the song at the Class Tree was 
as hearty, the scramble for the wreath was as merry 
and boisterous, and the illuminations at night were 
as bright and fairy-like as if clear skies had been 
over them all. Arthur, by the politeness of the oc- 
cupants of those rooms, "spread" at Nos. 21, 23, 
and 24 in Thayer Hall. There those whom he most 
loved and respected met to congratulate him and bid 
him God-speed at the threshold of the life which was 
opening so brightly before him. When I visit Cam- 
bridge, I always pass by those windows in Thayer 
that overlook so pleasantly the green and shady col- 
lege yard. When I saw them last my eyes were 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 35 

dim, and through a mist I saw familiar forms look- 
ing out upon me as they looked that day in '86. 
One was there whose thoughtful face and earnest 
eyes we shall see no more with our earthly vision. 
As I write, there lies upon my table a dry and 
faded flower, a relic which in the flush of youth 
and hope he tore from the Class Tree on that happy 
day. Alas, how much that was bright and beauti- 
ful then, like this poor flower, has faded or turned 
to dust! 

Commencement Day, which fell upon the thirtieth 
of June, was as pleasant in its outward aspects as the 
other had been unfavorable. The college course, 
now ended, had brought the little boy whose life we 
have followed to the door of that larger life which 
seemed to hold for him so much of happiness and 
honor. In the large class which was now graduated 
from its mother, Harvard the Bountiful, he ranked 
as the sixth, being entitled to an oration, which he 
did not claim. In the Classical Department he was 
only outranked by his friend Snyder, the first man 
of the class. He received his degree in the high- 
est grade, summa cum laiule, with final Honors in 
Classics and honorable mention in Greek, Latin, 
and French, and English Composition. 



36 AETHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

RECORD, 1885-86. 

Greek 6 \ 92 

Greek 8 98 

Latin 8 . . .98 

Latin 9 ........... . 99 

French 6 ...'.. .'100 

French 7 . . . . 92 

Fine Arts 10 . 91 

Forensics ........... 100 

In consequence of a slight attack of diphtheria, 
from which he slowly recovered, Arthur spent most 
of the month of August in the quiet town of Pem- 
broke, N. H., for the purposes of rest and the en- 
joyment of an out-door life; and in September he 
went to Jefferson, where he renewed for the last 
time the friendships and pleasures which he had 
found in former years in the midst of its magnifi- 
cent mountain scenery. The bracing mountain air 
completed the restoration that had begun at Pem- 
broke; but his visit was sadly terminated by the 
sudden illness and subsequent death of a relative 
and dear friend, who was one of the little party 
which had accompanied him. 

On the thirtieth of September he returned to Cam- 
bridge as a resident graduate, retaining his rooms 
in Plympton Street, while he changed his manner of 
living a little by taking board at the Memorial Hall. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 37 

His post-graduate courses were entirely in classical 
philology and archaeology, although outside of his 
regular work he continued to give considerable at- 
tention to French. In connection with the latter, 
he was one of the original members of La Conference 
Franchise de l'Universite Harvard, which was or- 
ganized on the evening of the twelfth of Xovember, 
1886. 

During this year the two hundred and fiftieth 
anniversary of the founding of the college was ob- 
served. In this celebration, to which the sons of 
Harvard thronged from all parts of the land, Arthur 
took a lively interest. Of the addresses by eminent 
alumni, and of the various meetings and festivities, 
he was a careful hearer and observer. The com- 
memoration was closed on the evening of Graduates' 
Day by a great parade and torchlight, in which the 
ingenuity and energy of the students rose to the 
utmost. Although this part of the celebration was 
in the hands of the undergraduates, a few resident 
graduates who could not restrain their spirits, of 
whom Arthur was one, joined the throng in a noisy 
body, which the "Daily Crimson " described as — 

" A delegation of Puritans, — a very well gotten up 
and correct costume, — gray knee-breeches, short coat, 
and sugar-loaf hat, and a huge belt with a bright buckle. 
There were about thirty in all in the body, and they had 
a curious cheer, which woke the echoes." 



38 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

During the winter, a course of eleven lectures 
by the eminent Italian archaeologist, Prof. Eodolfo 
Lanciani, on Roman subjects, and another, by Prof. 
Arthur L. Frothingham, of Princeton, on Assy- 
rian Archaeology, gave a more definite direction 
to the later trend of Arthur's mind, which was 
further influenced by a subsequent course of Dr. 
Charles Waldstein on the Various Influences affect- 
ing the Development of Greek Art, The former of 
these added much to the interest which he already 
felt in its subjects, and excited a longing for a 
closer acquaintance with Rome, which was gratified, 
but not satisfied, in a visit to Italy in 1888; while 
the latter gave strength to a desire for a course of 
study and research in Greece itself. A paper on 
"The Origin and Significance of the Myth of Hera- 
kles," which he read in March at a meeting of the 
Classical Club, marked his growing inclination 
toward original investigations in archaeological 
subjects. 

The Master's year was the happiest of the pleas- 
ant years which he passed at Cambridge. From the 
higher standpoint of a graduate he could look with 
pleasure, not unmixed, perhaps, with a little natural 
pride, upon the past. I know there were some things 
he would have changed had he possessed the power 
to retrace his steps; but they were things that had 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 39 

been shown to him by the experiences of scholar- 
ship, and there was nothing that he really regretted. 
There were no remembrances of misspent time or 
neglected opportunities. With the unaffected faith- 
fulness of his nature, he had met with honor all the 
requirements of his course, and had more than an- 
swered the expectations and hopes which his friends 
had entertained. He had no low estimate of the 
responsibilities and value of a scholar's life. He 
was filled with a sense of its usefulness and dignity. 
With him learning was not a thing for light parade 
and ostentation, but a strong, ennobling spirit, that 
influences men's lives and controls their actions. 
Those who were nearest to him in his studies felt 
an inspiration for earnest and thorough work that 
came insensibly from him. 

Thus far I have refrained from speaking of the 
religious part of his nature, but from this time it 
became such a powerful and ever-present element in 
his life that it cannot be overlooked. That he was 
a Christian in the highest sense of that sometimes 
abused word, no one could doubt who knew his sin- 
gularly upright and modest life, or who knew the 
purity of his conversation, that must have been the 
reflex of his inner self. I cannot recall the time 
when a change came into his life, nor could he fix 
it. The sense of spiritual weakness and strength, 



40 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY, 

of dependence and responsibility, which troubles so 
many, seemed to come to him as a thing of growth, 
gaining force with his years. The sober earnestness 
of his earlier thoughts and expressions, the peculiar 
and deep conception of honor and honesty which was 
so conspicuous in his childhood, and which governed 
all his actions in his later life, seem to have been 
a part — the root, perhaps — of that growth which 
has blossomed beyond our mortal view. Yet, though 
the religious sense seems to have had so early a part 
in his character, there was no precocity in its out- 
ward development; and it was not until his last 
year as an undergraduate at Cambridge that he made 
a formal profession of his Christian faith, and was 
baptized in the First Baptist Church in Maiden. 
Still, there was no outward change in his life. I 
do not think there was an inward change, except 
that he had gradually grown into a knowledge of 
himself and of his dependence upon God and his 
need of a personal Saviour. There may have been a 
more devoted attention to the work of the Christian 
organizations with which he was connected, more 
direct personal appeals, perhaps, to those of his fel- 
lows who most needed them. Yet, with the inner 
knowledge which he must have had of the merit of 
his pure life, there was nothing like self-gratulation 
in his nature; but there was, rather, a consciousness 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 41 

of his own weakness and demerit, save through 
the help and grace of God, which expressed itself 
at times with unmistakable clearness. While in 
Europe, he wrote in a reflective way, which was 
not uncommon to him, — 

"God has so much patience with me, and I need his 
forgiveness so often myself, that I can't be hard to 
others.'* 

I do not know a more terse and forcible statement 
of Christian humility, faith, and love. It is richer 
than creeds, and its directness and simplicity appeal 
to every human heart. 

On Commencement Day, the twenty-ninth of June, 
1887, Arthur received the degree of Master of Arts ; 
and the life at Cambridge, which, as he looked back 
upon it, seemed almost a dream, so happy had it 
been, was closed. A little time was left for prep- 
aration and the companionship of friends; and on 
the third of August he sailed from New York on the 
steamship "TVaesland" for Antwerp. 

Arthur went out from home without a misgiving, 
although, in the uncertainties and possible loneli- 
ness of an absence of four years in a foreign land, 
there might have been much to disquiet him. A 
calm reliance upon a higher Power, which, though 
quiet and scarcely perceived, was always present in 



42 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

his thoughts, gave him strength and the courage 
which never deserted him. He wrote to a friend : 

" It is n't much fun bidding good-by to people, when 
one does n't know whether he is ever coming back or not. 
Still, I am in the line of what seems to me for the best ; 
and I hope to have a fair measure of success." 

And a few hours before he left home he wrote 
again : — 

" Well, I am going away this afternoon. Many of the 
good-bys have been said, and things done and seen for 
the last time. Of course, there are some unpleasant fea- 
tures about leaving ; but I trust it is for the best, and 
that the good God who has guided me thus far will not 
leave me in my new life." 

It was this strong reliance, that came from a sin- 
cere trust and a fervent faith, which had sustained 
him in many weary hours. In the new life it was 
to keep him from homesickness, from doubts and 
discouragements; and it was to preserve him in the 
purity of life and conversation and in the upright- 
ness which had so far marked his way. 

In life, I shall never forget his appearance as he 
stood upon the deck while the ship, working slowly 
out from the pier, began her long voyage. Unheed- 
ing the cheers and waving of handkerchiefs and 
hats, amid the confusion which always accompanies 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 43 

such scenes, he stood immovable, with his head bared 
and his eyes intently fixed upon his mother, as she 
waved her farewells upon the shore. In his thought- 
ful and serious face, I seemed to see that his active 
mind was looking out upon the past and into the 
future, certainly with thankfulness for what had 
been, and with a prophetic vision, perhaps, of the 
successes that were to come. As the shore faded 
and the little groups upon the pier were lost to sight 
and he turned away, I am sure that the tear in his 
eye was one of tenderness and not of regret. 

A course of study in Germany and a year in 
Greece had been constantly in his mind during the 
latter years of his life at Cambridge, at first as some- 
thing that might never be, and finally as a matter 
of certainty. He had fully determined to enter into 
university life as a professor when the way should 
be opened to him, and all his efforts were directed 
to that end. He had no patience with the thought 
of an inadequate preparation, — the most thorough 
only would satisfy him. I believe he would not 
have accepted any position for which his exacting 
mind did not consider himself as fully trained; for 
his sense of strict honesty, to which I have before 
referred, would have forbade, even though his schol- 
arly instincts had not prompted him to a deeper and 
most accurate preparation. 



44 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

It was ten o'clock when Fire Island flashed its 
farewell, and the last token of America vanished 
astern under the radiance of a growing moon. The 
voyage so pleasantly begun was one of enjoyment 
throughout, The passengers were of divers peoples 
and tongues; and Arthur found there how near akin 
are all the nations of the earth. Here he met and 
was attracted, especially, by two educated Europeans, 
whose companionship and conversation were a source 
of pleasure to him. From one, a Flemish gentle- 
man, I have recently received a sympathetic tribute 
to Arthur's memory. Of the other, a Father of the 
Society of Jesus, a gentle Hollander by birth and a 
man of high classical attainments, we have never 
heard since we clasped his hand in farewell at Ant- 
werp. In his lonely mission in India he, too, may 
have passed away; but if Father Van der E-eydt, 
once of Eindhoven, ever reads these words in the 
land of the living, he may know that the young 
American scholar who passed many pleasant hours 
with him on that summer voyage, had a kind re- 
membrance of him through life. 

Arthur was not a good sailer, and he had no long- 
ings for the lesser discomforts of an ocean voyage ; 
but aside from the unpleasant experiences, which 
one readily forgets in the remembrance of the gla- 
mour of the sea, there was much in this first voyage 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 45 

which quickened his mind and filled it with pleas- 
ant impressions. There were slothful, sleepy after- 
noons in the golden gleam of the summer sun; and 
when the full moon rose high above the uneasy sea, 
the balmy air wooed us from sleep and we were held 
entranced and silent beneath the glory of the night. 
Above and around it all was that ready companion- 
ship into which one enters so easily upon the sea, if 
his fellow passengers possess no taint of that paltry 
exclusiveness which sometimes makes men — and 
women, too — so infinitely mean and ridiculous. 
There was that pleasing converse where words of 
wisdom and fun, of sober thought and playful jest, 
mingle in delightful disarray, where the best and 
deepest traits of men's characters stand out with 
strength and clearness in the midst of genial wit 
and lively repartee. 

The voyage, filled with the elements that make 
an ocean trip most agreeable, — good weather and 
pleasant companionship, — was long, but not te- 
dious. On the twelfth da} T we were passing the 
sunny shores and lofty cliffs of Southern England 
and the Isle of Wight, — pleasant fields of an 
earthly paradise that lay all day like golden and 
emerald visions on the northern verge; and as 
we left the deck at night, the glittering lights of 
Hastings, far away, brought to our minds the long 



46 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

historic past, when the Norman crossed the narrow- 
sea, and a half regret that our voyage was soon to 
close. 

In the morning, over the yeasty waters of the 
North Sea, we saw the Belgian shore; and passing 
into the Schelde, we looked over the massive stone 
dykes upon the little villages, with their red-tiled 
roofs and gray church towers, below the level of the 
sea, and the beautiful country stretching away, in 
green and misty distances, to the low horizon. Sud- 
denly, far away in the dreamy south, we saw a great 
gray mass, looking alone over the level land, - — the 
far-seen tower of Our Lady of Antwerp, as it had 
looked out for four hundred years upon the devasta- 
tions of war and the smiling fields of peace. 

It was not a city of to-day that we saw that sunny 
afternoon as we wandered aimlessly about, too eager 
in our first hours for systematic work; but it was 
the Antwerp of the old time, when Spanish knights 
and Flemish burghers held hot and bloody confer- 
ence in its narrow streets. Beneath the crumbling 
towers of St. Jacques we entered a world of beauty 
and of art ; and as we stood before the masterpiece 
in its Rubens Chapel, we found, as we looked upon 
the pavement at our feet, that we had come, unknow- 
ing, first of all to the grave of him in whose hands 
Flemish art attained its highest beauty and power. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 47 

It was at the grave of Rubens and before the De- 
scent from the Cross in Notre Dame, and the 
beautiful Assumption that hangs over the high 
altar near by, that Arthur imbibed that love for 
directness and force in art which he never forgot. 
Afterwards at Cologne the masters of that early 
school impressed him with the excellence of a sin- 
cere purpose ; and later, the Italians, in the galleries 
of Munich and Dresden, taught him that delicacy 
and sentiment are not adverse to vigor and truth. 

The day ended with a mazy walk through arched 
ways, beneath statues of Our Lady in lanes and 
alle} T s, clear of the hurry and noise of the busier 
streets; and as we fell asleep the sweet bell of St. 
Andre, that mellow voice that haunts the memory, 
and the tender music from the cathedral tower min- 
gled with painted saints and wooden-shoed work- 
people in our dreams. 

It was well that Arthur's first acquaintance with 
Europe was gained in that quaint and ancient Flem- 
ish town, where the beauty of art and the myste- 
rious charm of antiquity together struck a note 
which never ceased to vibrate in his after life. 
When residence and travel had given him more 
experience in European life, he still referred to 
Antwerp as the city of his first love; and a return 
to it was anticipated with delight. The few days 



48 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

which we spent there were full of activity and in- 
terest. Churches, galleries, by-streets, and lanes 
were made to give up for us all they contained. 
Arthur had a keen eye for churches and chapels, or 
conventual buildings degraded to the condition of 
warehouses and shops; and such buildings, when 
found, were usually examined, both without and 
within. I remember the mystery which enveloped 
an ancient roof and a tourelle which, with evident 
marks of the baser uses to which they had come, 
could be seen from our chamber window, to which, 
with all our seeking in narrow courts and winding 
passages, we could never come. There seemed to 
be a fascination to him in this, because, perhaps, in 
many instances of this kind, secularization had laid 
bare methods of construction and principles of ar- 
chitecture that revealed the history of which he was 
in search. This habit he followed in every mediae- 
val city which we visited; and by observation in 
this and other ways, aided by previous reading, he 
acquired in a short time a remarkably accurate 
knowledge of architectural history, which enabled 
him to read on wall or arch its story, as one would 
read a printed page. 

From Antwerp we sped across the level lands of 
Flanders, where red poppies lined the wayside, into 
the wilder and picturesque regions of Southeastern 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 49 

Belgium, where, crossing deep valleys, we looked 
down upon busy factories or saw on rocky hills the 
towers and castles of ancient times. Then over the 
plains of Rhenish Prussia we saw the towers of Co- 
logne, and at night looked out from our windows 
upon a scene of fairy-like beauty, the lighted Rhine, 
— the river of the Roman and the Barbarian, the 
stream of poetry and song. 

In the city of churches and narrow streets we 
sought and found the older Cologne that is passing 
away. The nineteenth century has pressed hard 
upon the past; and there, as in most of the large 
European cities, wide streets and the demands of 
modern life and trade have destroyed many a monu- 
ment that time had spared. As in Antwerp, in 
church and gallery, and in obscure gasschen we 
found the old world of art and legend, and read its 
story from chiselled stone, or in glowing colors on 
panel and canvas. 

In the Dom of Cologne, that matchless flower of 
Gothic art that has blossomed so slowly, Arthur saw 
the crowning glory of the builders' work; but it 
failed to impress him as he had been impressed by 
the church of Our Lady of Antwerp. This, to him, 
was perfect and cold, speaking to the intellect in its 
perfection: the other was human and warm, appeal- 
ing to the heart. The one was triumphant music: 
4 



50 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

the other was pitying and sympathetic, a place for 
prayer. 

After Cologne came two perfect days upon the 
swift-flowing Rhine, two sunny, blue-skied days, 
when the golden light fell soft over vineyard and 
hill. From storied castle and legend-crowned height 
the past looked down upon us ; and in a dreamy daze 
we saw, upon the Drachenfels, the good knight Sieg- 
fried, with the maiden, coming down from his grew- 
some bath. From his ruined tower, Eoland looked 
out for the Hildegunde he should see no more ; and 
all along on rock and shore, in a mist of romance 
seen afar, were — 

" Armed knights, and maids, and sirens fair, 
And Lorelei with golden hair." 

In the moonbeams there was for us no bridge 
of gold at Eudesheim; but Hatto of Fulda, from 
the door of his tower, watched as we sailed by to 
Bingen. 

At Coblenz and Mainz, in church and tower, 
Arthur pursued his study of the past, with an ever 
increasing interest; and at the latter place he 
paused to read more carefully the chronicle on its 
cathedral walls. There, too, he found himself for 
the first time — a brief visit to the Eomerthurm 
at Cologne excepted — in the presence of fragments 
of Eoman times. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 51 

Next Heidelberg was around us, now in a glory 
of sunlight that transformed its gray streets with 
gleams of gold, or in a gloaming of shadow that 
deepened the dark green of its wooded hills; and 
there in the stately ruin to which all Heidelberg 
looks up, and in the shade of its beautiful gardens, 
we passed a day never to be forgotten, — one of the 
three idyllic days of which Arthur spoke with lov- 
ing memory on the last afternoon of his life. The 
days at Heidelberg had less of observation and 
study, perhaps, than those we had passed, — for the 
poetic aspect of life seems to come, first of all, in 
that ancient seat of learning in its beautiful valley 
on the ISTeckar, — and Arthur gave way to the sooth- 
ing influence in that easy unbending into which 
he sometimes fell. He said he could live there for 
the mere pleasure of existence in such a place, with 
a quiet life of study before him and no thought of 
anything in life beyond. It was in a mist of cloud 
and rain that we left dreamy Heidelberg; but the 
sun shone brightly as we passed down the smiling 
valley and out over the wide Bavarian plains. 

A few days at Munich were mostly passed in the 
galleries; and there Arthur found his growing taste 
for art quickened and strengthened. The master- 
pieces of Rubens and his pupils confirmed his admi- 
ration for the Flemish school, while he found a fresh 



52 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

inspiration in the works of Raphael and his Italian 
compeers. In the magnificent collections of vases 
and statuary, he gained his first opportunity for 
that close study of antique art in which he after- 
ward spent so many happy hours. The dreamy 
influence of Heidelberg was swept away, and he 
entered with earnestness into that energetic life of 
work from which he never wholly departed. 

In the quaint and ancient city on the Pegnitz, 
we made a pilgrimage to the grave of Albrecht 
Diirer; and in its old-time streets we tasted that 
flavor of antiquity which may still he found in the 
living and thriving Nuremberg. In the homely 
tavern of the Rother Halm, centuries old, we were 
under protecting wings, and looked out from its 
windows morning and night upon the roofs and 
pointed gables of long past years. 

I can see how much of benefit there was to the 
young student in all this changing round of anti- 
quity and art. In the light of later years I can see, 
what was hidden then, how his archaeological tastes 
and his habits of investigation and thought were 
constantly developing, growing more powerful and 
quicker in action, and how from the easier masses 
which he at first discerned he was penetrating into 
the mysteries of the intricate details of purpose and 
construction. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 53 

In the journey from Nuremberg through the 
Franconian Switzerland, Arthur's love for natural 
scenery was evinced, and in his quiet way he re- 
joiced in the fleeting views of hill and valley that 
met us on every side. The favor of a good-natured 
schaff/ier had given us a compartment to ourselves, 
which enabled us to command both sides of the road. 
It was the combination which Arthur most loved, — 
" hills and mountains," he says in his diary, " with 
fertile river valleys between." Through all he saw 
his own New England hills; and in a mountain, as 
we passed, he found his old New Hampshire friend, 
Starr King, at Jefferson. 

In the middle of the afternoon we came into Bo- 
hemia, and to the little and ancient town of Eger, 
silent and more quaint than Nuremberg herself, with 
an air of the Middle Ages within its falling walls, 
that all the freshness of hotels and factories without 
could not overcome. In the market-place, old women 
under the ancient Bohemian head-dress looked on 
listless and lazy, while the single young fruit-girl, 
with an honesty uncorrupted by a larger knowledge 
of the world, corrected the strangers who would have 
overpaid her in the unfamiliar coinage of the realm. 
Convents, into whose courtyards rich with ancient 
fragments we penetrated, dilapidated churches and 
chapels, sacred and secularized, in all the conditions 



54 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

to which time and man had brought them, exposed 
secrets which Arthur most eagerly read. 

A restful night followed; and in the morning we 
left Bohemia over the Erzgebirge, and came at night 
to Dresden. Through the day, from the sides of 
high hills, we looked down upon ruined castles and 
towns, homely and silent in their seclusion, or busy 
in the clang and bustle of work and trade ; or far 
away, down valleys golden in the sunlight, on ripen- 
ing fields of grain, we saw the distant mountains 
fading in the misty blueness of the summer sky. 
Always to him was there some memory of the land 
beyond the sea. In the valley of the Weisseritz, 
lesser though than its transatlantic archetype, al- 
ways dreaming of the New Hampshire hills, he saw 
the familiar slopes and ravines of the Crawford 
Notch. 

We came to Dresden, the city of art and the Sis- 
tine Madonna. In its superb gallery Arthur saw 
the sum of all that he had yet seen of the painter's 
work, and made stronger still the impressions which 
he had received. A long journey were well re- 
warded to come at last to such a place. What 
treasures of beauty and priceless value lie between 
the Madonna of Raphael and the Madonna of Hol- 
bein, in the long range of those wonderful rooms, — 
Correggio and Titian and the whole world of art ! 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 55 

Even at this time, the demands of the student in 
his judgment of art were those of the clearest sin- 
cerity and strictest truth. A picture was of doubt- 
ful value if it showed no purpose, however perfect 
were its composition and technique. An untruth 
was a lie positive, however alluring its presentation; 
and lifelessness was no less an unreality in the 
brightest hues. He was a puritan in art, as in his 
thoughts and habits, to the extent that he fixed a 
standard that he would not or could not debase. 
Absolute truth was his measure, and all tilings were 
admirable only in the degree in which they ap- 
proached this unchanging unit of perfection. Hence 
the glowing canvases of Paolo Veronese, here and 
elsewhere, had little or no influence upon him, al- 
though he could appreciate their dignity and color- 
ing. His crisp " Cloth-painter, " as he turned from 
them, was neither contemptuous nor thoughtless, but 
an honest expression of what many others have said 
with less terseness. In his estimates, which were 
for himself rather than for others, there was no un- 
due assertion of an insufficient judgment. He was 
too good a student for that; and he was careful to 
weigh his present knowledge against the possibili- 
ties of a larger experience and closer study. 

For the qualities which he regarded as essential, 
he was attracted by the noble panels of Correggio, 



56 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

in that series at Dresden which none can pass un- 
heeded, and the less idealized and more vigorous 
canvases of Rubens and Van Dyck. Rembrandt 
and the Dutch school to the humblest, he always 
saw with loving eyes. Later, the tenderness and 
fervor of the early Italian masters, which he first 
recognized at Berlin and observed more closely in 
Italy and at the Louvre, impressed him with a 
strength that even his love for the early painters of 
Flanders and Cologne did not exceed. I think he 
must have liked the rude and sincere attempts of 
Byzantine art. I know he admired and valued the 
encaustic portraits from the Fayoum in the Graf 
collection, which at one time he hoped might be 
secured, in whole or in part, for America. 

The museums and other collections at Dresden 
were not neglected; but to the Zwinger we returned 
again and again, with unabated interest. As the 
day waned, there were walks in the Grosse Garten, 
or over the river to the Neustadt, or a restful sail 
upon the Elbe to Blasewitz or beyond; and the day 
would close with a pleasant evening on the Briihl 
Terrace and a concert by the orchestra of Kapell- 
meister Kramer. 

To Arthur the days at Dresden were a fitting 
ending of a delightful tour that influenced his after 
life. On the last morning we spent the farewell 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 57 

hours at the Zwinger with the works that had be- 
come so familiar; and in the afternoon we went to 
Berlin. 

That night, as we rode through Leipzigerstrasse 
in the glare of its electric lights and the hum of its 
busy evening life, we were back, out of the romance 
of the weeks that had passed, into the world of the 
present. At the filiate of the great Central Hotel 
we became number five hundred and twenty-five, 
and lost our identity for the time. Berlin is so 
modern in its outward aspects that he who arrives 
there after a tour, esj3ecially if he comes from the 
more quiet and quaint cities of Upper Germany, 
experiences a shock as if he had dropped into an- 
other life. At first he finds in his surroundings, 
if he be an American, an odd likeness to the Eastern 
cities of his own land; and it is only after he has 
time to breathe and look around that the likeness 
passes away. There was a little disappointment in 
all this. Were we to find in this crowded and busy 
city the conditions for that leisurely and thorough 
study for which the Atlantic had been crossed? 
Bonn, or Heidelberg, or Leipzig were preferable to 
this; but could there be an inner life behind all 
this dissonance of pleasure and traffic? 

The first thing to be done in the morning, after 
rolls and coffee, was to visit the banker for money, 



58 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

and better, for letters and papers. Of the latter, 
we were blessed with five letters and four numbers 
of the " Maiden Mirror," which were like water to 
the thirsty; for we had been away from home forty- 
two days,. and had received only one little unimpor- 
tant note, which was sent as a trial and unexpectedly 
reached us at Munich. There was no business done 
or other pleasure sought until we had read them all, 
and then we had to talk them over. 

The larger part of two days was spent in getting 
settled. Through the kindness of a gentleman to 
whom we carried letters, and who became a good 
friend and pleasant acquaintance, Arthur found a 
room and board in Markgrafenstrasse with a lady 
in whose family he lived during two years and a 
half of his life in Berlin. There he found friends 
and agreeable acquaintances, whose conversation and 
companionship lightened the hours which he de- 
voted to recreation and rest; and he brought away 
pleasant memories of that German home, to which 
he often reverted in the few weeks which remained 
to him after his return to America. 

Hardly was he settled in his new home before he 
began in earnest the work for which he had come 
to Europe. Lectures were not to begin for several 
weeks; and he gladly improved the opportunity to 
increase his knowledge of the German language by 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 59 

a course with a competent teacher; and to fill the 
measure of his time, lie began a systematic and criti- 
cal re-reading of his favorite Homer. A little sight- 
seeing was done, and the museums and galleries 
were visited. Here he found a collection of paint- 
ings admirable in its historical arrangement and 
rich in works of the early Italians and the Dutch 
and Flemish schools, to which he could refer with 
advantage and delight; while the superb collections 
of casts, vases, coins, and other antiquities were to 
furnish him with many happy days of diligent work. 
Yet at this time he had little thought of the part 
which archaeology was to take in his future studies; 
for the change, which we can clearly see as we look 
back upon those days, even he did not then recog- 
nize. Classical philology was to be, he thought, the 
work of his life; and he did not dream that, though 
he might attain in that the excellence at which he 
aimed, he would attain an equal excellence in its 
kindred science. 

I remained with him several da} T s in his new 
home; and one morning our hostess and her family 
gathered around us, with that hearty German kind- 
ness which speeds the parting guest, while we took 
our last meal together in Germany. " Tell his 
mother," said the sympathetic woman, "that she 
need not fear, for I will care for him. I will think 



60 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

he is my own son among strangers." Those words 
of the German mother, carried across the sea, sank 
deep into the American mother's heart. 

A short ride through the streets that would be- 
come so familiar to him, and we stood hand in 
hand by the side of the train that was to separate 
us. A few parting words of love and encourage- 
ment, a few tears; and the kindly schaffner, with, 
perhaps, a tear in his heart for us, with, certainly, 
a look of sympathy in his face, held the door open, 
lingeringly, for our farewell. Then, as the train 
moved slowly out of the station, and a curve in the 
track took him from my sight, I realized what I 
had left behind. I thought of the homesickness, 
the disappointments, and the temptations which 
might come in a life untried and strange. Hap- 
pily, God and his own conscience aud stout heart 
kept him from them all, and gave him the strength 
that made him true to himself and a helper of oth- 
ers. " May God preserve us both to meet again," 
wrote Arthur in his diary that night. 

His first day alone was to be marked by a sad 
memory; for after I left him he saw at the Ex- 
change a notice of the death of his grandfather 
Holden, and at night received a confirming letter 
from his mother. Then he remembered the tears 
of his grandfather, who had a great attachment for 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 61 

him, at their parting, and how he said he should 
never see him again. 

Besides the friends he had already made among 
his German acquaintances, there was then in Berlin 
Arthur's old college chum, Charles Frederic Carrier, 
of '85, who had been at the University two years. 
He was soon to return to America, but Henry The- 
odore Hildreth, another man of 'So, was there, and 
became Arthur's close companion after Carrier's 
early departure. Besides these, there were Edmund 
Nathaniel Snyder, the head man of '86, and other 
Harvard graduates, there being six members of the 
classes of 'So and '86 at the University during that 
winter semester, with all of whom Arthur was inti- 
mate in a greater or less degree. 

His religious feeling and his interest in Chris- 
tian work led him to seek the rooms of the "Christ- 
lichen Vereins Junger Manner," — the Berlin Young 
Men's Christian Association; and he became an ac- 
tive member of its " Studenten-Abtheilung.' 7 An 
early acquaintance with Dr. Stuckenberg, of the 
American church, and his noble wife, beloved by 
all Americans who have visited Berlin, and by those 
who have met her in America, resulted in a friend- 
ship which he valued as one of the privileges of his 
life, and which he reciprocated by an earnest devo- 
tion to the work in which they were engaged. This 



62 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

friendship imposed upon him duties which he wel- 
comed as pleasures to perform 5 and he endeavored 
to meet them with his whole heart. Even with the 
mist of death in his eyes he recalled them, and left 
as a legacy to us the precious privilege of fulfilling 
his parting wish in behalf of the church and work 
of those dear friends. A travelling letter from the 
church in Maiden introduced him to the German 
Baptist Chapel in Schmidstrasse, which he often 
visited, where he was a welcome communicant; but 
he became more closely connected with the Ameri- 
can church, where his opportunities for the work 
which he loved were more abundant. There in its 
helpful and protecting associations, himself a pro- 
tector and a helper, he found strength in giving of 
his own strength to others. " There was no good 
cause connected with our work," writes Mrs. Stuck- 
enberg, " which he did not help with his steady, 
wonderful faithfulness." 

His early temperance principles were never vio- 
lated in his foreign home; and they led him to be- 
come active in the formation of what is said to have 
been the first total abstinence society organized in 
Germany, — the International Total Abstinence So- 
ciety of Berlin. The first object of this society was 
declared by its constitution to be : — 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 63 

" To furnish a practical proof, by personal abstinence 
from the use of wine, beer, and all alcoholic liquors as 
beverages, that it is possible to live abroad in comfort and 
health, while holding fast to total abstinence principles." 

It is related, in illustration of the force of a good 
example, that a young American physician in Berlin 
was sitting behind his mug of beer, when he was 
told of the formation of this society. "If that is 
so," said he, "this shall be my last glass." This 
society, of which Arthur was the first secretary and 
treasurer, attracted attention both in Germany and 
America. A similar society was soon formed at 
Leipzig, and perhaps others followed in some uni- 
versity towns, of the success of which I have no in- 
formation; but it may be that the seed sown in 
uncertainty and humbleness may yet yield an abun- 
dant harvest. 

With those Americans whose temperance princi- 
ples and habits vanish on the ocean voyaye to return 
upon the pier when they reach home, he had little 
sympathy. "The truth is, I suspect," he wrote 
soon after his arrival in Berlin, "that Americans 
who come here wish some excuse for drinking wine 
and beer, and so they slander the water, which is as 
good as at home." 

Yet he was not obtrusive in his devotion to tem- 
perance, nor did he shrink from declaring his princi- 



64 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

pies by his practice. His intimate connection with 
classical and archaeological men, and his standing in 
their mutual studies, brought him in contact with 
those whom he admired and whose friendship he 
prized; and it was a pleasure to him, and a token of 
the manliness of German scholars, that adherence to 
his habits of abstinence was always treated with 
deference. I do not believe that they who saw the 
quiet but fun-loving American student at the Con- 
certsaal or the Abschiedskneipe, with a bottle of 
Apollinaris or selterswasser, or a cup of chocolate 
before him, respected him the less for the simple 
manliness which preserved its own integrity and 
independence. One who understands student life 
at home and abroad, and to whom was given the 
privilege of companionship with Arthur, writes in 
relation to this feature of truthfulness to his Chris- 
tian and temperance principles : — 

"A calm, courageous death closed a courageous life. 
No one who has not lived among German students can 
realize the moral heroism requisite to maintain an active 
Christian faith and adherence to the temperance princi- 
ples of home in the midst of student life. Arthur's posi- 
tion in this regard was really unique. It alone would 
entitle him to the 'well done, thou good and faithful ser- 
vant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' In the case of 
most of us, the cares of this world, or the seductiveness 
of scholarship, ever draw us away from moral and spir- 



ARTHUR DELORATNE CORKY. 65 

itnal ideals and interests; bill with him it would seem 
that the intensity of his devotion to classical learning 
strengthened his whole nature and added force to his 
Christian faith." 

I have spoken of this side of Arthur's character 
here, because while its rare qualities and strength 
were still but imperfectly known to those nearest 
him, it is clear now that it was developed at the 
beginning of his residence in Germany, and that it 
varied little, if at all, during the remainder of his 
life. It became more apparent, perhaps, and its 
operations were oftener seen as occasions for its ex- 
ercise were more frequent. It gained strength in 
its manifestations as his mind w r as quickened and 
broadened by intercourse with strangers and a 
closer acquaintance with unfamiliar manners and 
customs. 

He soon became contentedly settled in his new 
home, and imbibed an earnest and heartfelt esteem 
for the people around him. There was some rare 
and impalpable quality in him which made friends 
where others find acquaintances. It may have been 
the unaffected truthfulness of his nature, wdiich at- 
tracted those who met him, or the earnestness and 
clearness of his thoughts and the unstudied sympa- 
thy of his manner. He rapidly acquired the lan- 
guage, so that he used it with ease, both in writing 
5 



66 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

and conversation. He caught many glimpses of 
the simple and loving homelife of Germany, which 
charmed him; and he entered with a ready adapta- 
tion into the enjoyment of those domestic habits 
and customs in which German life abounds. Not 
the least interesting portions of his letters are 
those in which he describes for his friends those 
homely scenes in which he often participated. Ber- 
lin became to him a second home, where under cer- 
tain conditions he could have passed his life with 
comfort and contentment; and he always returned 
to it with pleasure. After an absence in Italy or 
France, he said the first words of the familiar Ger- 
man tongue were as welcome to him as those of his 
native land. 

On the thirteenth day of October, 1887, he was 
matriculated at the Royal Friedrich-Wilhelm Uni- 
versity, and on the twenty-fourth of the same month 
he attended his first lecture in a course on Thuky- 
dides by Prof. Adolph Kirchhoff. "So I am stud, 
phil. (studiosus philosophies)," he writes, "and as 
the Germans always give a man his title, I get 
advertisements addressed, ' Herrn stud. phil. A. 
Corey, ; and one added 'Wohlgeboren.' My cer- 
tificate calls me, <Vir juvenis ornatissimus, ' which 
does n't mean <a very ornamental young man.' " 

His choice of lectures in the first semester shows 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 67 

how little he recognized the tendencies, that I have 
before noticed, winch were leading him into archae- 
ology. It betrays, too, the sense of duty, which he 
always obeyed; for I find him lamenting in his 
letters that he could not take a coveted course with 
Professor Vahlen on Aristophanes, because he must 
attend Vahlen 's Plautus, that he might not neglect 
the Latin. In this, perhaps, he applied to himself 
the advice which he had not long before given a 
young friend: — 

"It is a good thing for the mental and moral nature 
to carry through a difficult and distasteful task occasion- 
ally. I wish Greek might be a matter of pleasure with 
you ; but if this cannot be, make it a matter of con- 
science, and see if you do not acquire a sort of mental 
backbone by the necessary perseverance. You will like 
Homer." 

His courses were — 

1. Geschichte der griechischenLitteraturll.Theil, 
Prof. Hermann Diels. 

2. Griechische Lyriker, Prof. Hermann Diels. 

3. Thukydides, Prof. Adolf Kirchhoff. 

4. Plautus Menoechmi nebst Geschichte der dra- 
matischen Dichtung der Komer, Prof. Johannes 
Vahlen. 

5. Geschichte der romischen Satire, Dr. Fried- 
rich Marx. 



68 ARTHUR DELORAJNE COREY. 

This gave him eighteen hours of lecture work 
each week, besides two sessions of the Seminar. 
The peculiar qualities of his mind seemed to bring 
him at once under the influence of the thorough 
methods and precision of the German professors. 
"I find these lectures very stimulating already/ 7 
he wrote. "It is surprising what a minute know- 
ledge of everything these men have." 

For the rest, his private work upon Homer, which 
he never relinquished, a course of careful German 
reading, with frequent visits to the Royal Library, 
and some preliminary essays in collecting material 
for a work which he hoped some time to accomplish, 
made out the measure of the hours which he de- 
voted to study. Outside of those hours, he loved 
the companionship and conversation of his acquaint- 
ances, accompanying them, in the pleasant German 
fashion, on excursions into the country on holidays, 
or to concerts in the evening. He was fond, too, of 
long walks in the Thiergarten, or around the city, 
oftentimes alone in his contemplative moods, or 
sometimes with a congenial friend. 

Writing of the lighter hours of his daily life, he 
mentions his presence one evening at the Philhar- 
monic, where he heard the first performance of an 
unpublished work of Beethoven, — the u Trauer- 
marsch" of Sonata, op. 26, and says: — 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 69 

"I have rather neglected the musical side of my na- 
ture, and find that classical music rather shoots over my 
head. Still, I think 1 like Beethoven, which is a good 
symptom; and if I persevere m my attendance, I think 
I shall come out all right." 

In the social and religious customs that attended 
the Christmas andNew Year seasons which followed, 
he took a sympathetic interest. In the letter in 
which he wrote of the festivities, he speaks of hear- 
ing the celebrated Hofprediger Stocker, and of a 
later visit to the Nicolaikirche, where "the sermon 
was by a dear, saintly old man." 

The hearing of Stocker, who is a prominent and 
aggressive leader of the Anti-Semitic party in Ger- 
many, led Arthur to read his pamphlets and other 
published works; and the sermons and lectures of 
Paulus Cassel, Stbcker's earnest opponent, and "one 
of the most learned men in the Berlin pulpit," him- 
self a Jew by birth, confirmed him in a lively in- 
terest in the Jewish question in its complicated 
aspects, and in the people whom it concerns. An 
intimate acquaintance with Hebrews of intelligence 
and education led him to respect them as individu- 
als and as friends in whom he trusted. He recog- 
nized in the Jewish race a people of great intellectual 
strength and activity, which is making for itself 
rapid advances in culture and influence. "They 



70 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

are our people," he used to say, "for out of them 
came the Saviour of the world and Christianity." 

Perhaps those traits of devotion to duty and care 
for others, which were so marked in his character, 
had the most peculiar manifestations in his connec- 
tion with the " Gesellschaft zur Beforderung des 
Christentums unter den Juden" in Berlin. I can- 
not trace his first acquaintance with it; but it oc- 
curred soon after his return from Italy, when I find 
frequent allusions to his friend Prediger Schwabedis- 
sen of the society, and read of services at the Heili- 
gegeistkirche, — the chapel of the mission in Berlin. 
His interest showed itself in various ways, often in 
the direction of assistance to the society, by help- 
ing individuals who had come under its care. He 
was not given to recording or speaking of his own 
actions ; but I can gather, from his letters and diary, 
hints of his connection with this work, which be- 
come luminous under the influence of letters which 
I have received from others. He was earnest in 
presenting the claims of this mission to the Ameri- 
cans in Berlin, and in soliciting material help when 
it was needed in special cases. His love for it was 
not left in Germany, but continued with him in 
America. On his death-bed, when in the wonder- 
ful clearness of his mental vision he seemed to hold 
in full survey all that he had thought or done, he 



ARTHUR DELORAIXE COREY. 71 

recalled the mission and its people with words of 
love, and left for it a token of his dying remem- 
brance. An unfinished article on the evangelization 
of Israel was found on his table after his death, 
which has recently appeared in "Woman's Work 
for Woman," for which it was written at the re- 
quest of an American friend in Berlin. 

On the first day of the new year, Dr. Stucken- 
berg was installed as the first permanent pastor of 
the American church in Berlin, the services being 
conducted by Prof. Daniel Dorchester, Jr., now of 
Maiden. Soon after, Arthur had the satisfaction 
of paying the church building fund a contribution 
from the Congregational Sunday school of Wake- 
field, Mass., which was followed by one from the 
First Baptist Sunday school of Maiden. In these 
contributions he took especial pleasure, because 
they came through his personal influence, and were 
the first instances in which the American church 
was recognized by any religious organization. He 
hoped that the churches of America would finish 
what the Sunday schools began. 

As he returned to his studies after the holidays, 
he began to look about for material for a possible 
doctor's dissertation, and selected as a subject, 
"Synizesis in the early Epic and Elegiac Greek 
Verse." "I shall have to scan over thirty thou- 



VA ARTHUR DELORATNE COREY. 

sand lines of Greek poetry." he writes, "and com- 
bine the material thus obtained." This work he 
diligently pursued, and collected a large number of 
examples. The results he began to review after 
his return to America; and the unfinished manu- 
script, with the last work of his hands, lay open 
upon his table at the time of his death. 

The first semester ended on the fifteenth of March, 
but the lectures in Arthur's courses closed a few 
days earlier; and on the afternoon of the seventh 
of March, with his friends Hildreth and Walter A. 
Edwards, he left Berlin. " There was not much to 
see," he writes, "but we kept things lively with 
learned discussions, funny stories, and excruciating 
puns." 

They arrived at Nuremberg a little after three 
o'clock the next morning; and Arthur found him- 
self once more under the wings of his old friend, 
the Rother Hahn. After a little sleep, they en- 
joyed a students' tramp through the old and beau- 
tiful city, where "everything," wrote Arthur, "has 
a flavor of antiquity, even to the old boots in the 
Trodelmarkt." He writes how they ended the day, 
foot-tired and happy, with their minds full of visions 
of the beautiful glass of St. Lorenz and the treas- 
ures that fill that "quaint old town of art and 
song; " and how, descending to the grosser things 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 73 

of earth, they refreshed themselves with sweet leb- 
kuchen bought at Haberlein's. 

They left Nuremberg in the darkness of the morn- 
ing, and took their friihstiick at Augsburg. All 
through the early day they passed through the Ba- 
varian highlands, where the fences and hills re- 
minded Arthur, thinking ever of home, of his own 
New England, till the snowy Alps, majestic and 
clear, shone out over the clouds that covered the 
lower hills. 

That night they were at Lucerne and heard of the 
death of Kaiser Wilhelm; and the next day, over 
the Alps by St. Gotthard and down the valley of 
the Ticino, they came to Lugano. It was a day of 
clouds, whose rifts at times heightened the mystery 
of the higher peaks; but " before night it cleared," 
wrote Arthur, "and the mountains flamed under 
the rays of the setting sun, while the magic effects 
of the Italian atmosphere revealed themselves to 
our wondering eyes." 

At Lugano the frescoes of the gentle Bernardino 
Luini were a revelation to Arthur, to whom the 
easel works at Munich and Berlin had given little 
knowledge of the dignified sweetness of this tender 
painter of youth and beauty. At Milan he renewed 
the impressions which he gained here; and later at 
the Louvre he studied more closely the work of the 



74 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

master whose wonderful tenderness had impressed 
him with its sincerity and truth. It was not strange 
that the ideal loveliness of Luini should charm one 
who saw so clearly the excellencies of the early 
German and Flemish schools; for in art as in life, 
he rated faithfulness and earnestness above all 
things else. 

With a parting visit to the frescoes, they left the 
beautiful Lugano and went on to Milan. There the 
Last Supper of Lionardo da Vinci, "the face of 
Christ, gentle and tender, " excited the admira- 
tion of Arthur; but he gave the frescoes of Luini in 
San Maurizio the homage of a second visit. At 
the Brera he saw the Sposalizio of Raphael; but 
the collection as a whole gave him little pleasure. 
"The Italian artists of the second grade/' he wrote, 
referring to his visit to this gallery, "often marked 
by softness and sweetness of expression, lack the 
fire of Rubens. Palma Vecchio has put his daugh- 
ter's face on a Saint Sebastian, and Paolo Veronese 
has his big displays of colored cloth." 

At Turin, a Holy Family of Van Dyck, the 
best work by that master in Italy, though showing 
the influence of Titian, gratified his love for the 
Flemings; and for once he approved of Paolo Ve- 
ronese, whose Danae, with the pictures of Sodama 
and a Rubens, appear to have attracted him the most. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 75 

By way of Genoa and Pisa they arrived at Koine, 
and one of the desires of Arthur's life was realized. 
The twenty-three days which they spent in the 
Eternal City were passed in a round of inspiring 
and profitable work. Arthur's diary, written for 
his own remembrance, is tilled with brief notes 
made hastily in the press of the busy hours; but 
his letters convey more fully his impressions and 
show the rapid broadening of his mind as the scope 
of his observations was enlarged. The visit to 
Italy was of advantage to him as a lover of art; for 
with his usual striving for the truth regardless of 
former theories or beliefs, many of his earlier views 
were modified, while in others he was confirmed by 
a larger experience. At first in Italy, the Pre- 
Raphaelites disappointed him. U I stumble over 
their blue and green backgrounds," he wrote, 
"though the admirers of their works disregard the 
backgrounds, as being of no great importance." 
Nevertheless, by such men as Francia and Peru- 
gino he came to appreciate them. 

In the Vatican he found the Foligno Madonna 
and the Transfiguration worthy of the author of 
the Sistine Madonna : and two Murillos, — the 
Adoration and the Marriage of Saint Catharine, I 
suppose, — excited his admiration, with "a pow- 
erful Dead Christ from the school of Mantegna," 



76 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

— probably that of Giovanni Bellini. He was dis- 
appointed in the Last Judgment of Michelangelo; 
indeed, the massive genius of that master had few 
attractions for him, either in painting or sculpture. 
In its extremes he missed the free and graceful 
movement which characterizes Rubens, and the 
ideality and repose of Grecian art. I remember, 
in London or Paris, his expression of disapproba- 
tion of his favorite Rubens while under the tem- 
porary influence of the great Italian. Of the 
Di sputa, which he admired, as he did Raphael in 
all his periods, he says : — 

"I don't know whether any one has noticed the corre- 
spondence, but I think Raphael must have intentionally 
placed Abraham and Paul together as representatives of 
faith; then Moses and James for works; John, the poet 
of the New Testament, sits by David, the poet of the Old ; 
but I fail to see any evident connection between Adam 
and Peter." 

In the Palazzo Colonna, he finds the best to his 
liking to be "a little Rubens, either a copy or a 
close imitation of the altar-piece at Antwerp. There 
are also some good portraits by Van Dyck, but his 
large portraits generally run so much on black that 
I don't care much for them. The more I see of 
paintings, the more I am convinced of the great- 
ness of Rubens." His letters show always a just 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 77 

appreciation of the excellent in art wherever he 
found it; and his admiration or disesteem was al- 
ways in comparison, and not from captiousness or 
presumption. 

In architecture, as in painting, he formulated 
rules, perhaps involuntarily, which in the course of 
time broadened or deepened, but never essentially 
changed. The Romanesque and earlier Gothic forms 
came nearest to his standards of beauty and con- 
structive use. With the forms of the Renaissance 
in their adaptations he was not always in accord; 
and their later Rococo outgrowths, especially the 
Jesuit style, with its Baroque ornamentation, re- 
ceived but little notice at his hands. Though he 
admired its dome, and in a certain way the vast- 
ness of its interior, St. Peter's, as a work of art, 
failed to interest him. Of his first impressions he 
says: " P\)r real beauty, I prefer Pisa, Milan, or 
Cologne to St. Peter's: and I question if I shall 
find it so attractive as the cathedral of Antwerp." 

It was in Rome, I think, that his mind awoke to 
a full sense of what there was for him in the study 
of archaeology, and he began to outline the antici- 
pated work of his life. "As I stood on the ruins of 
the temple of Vesta in the midst of the ruins of the 
Forum," he wrote, "my eyes filled with tears when 
I remembered that I was standing in ancient Rome." 



78 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

He speaks of working among the ruins and in the 
museums ; and I find him carefully examining and 
comparing the antique statues and reliefs, scanning 
their peculiarities, and noting details in a way that 
shows that his observations were upon a higher plane 
than that of mere sight-seeing. "My archaeological 
work under Fowler, " he writes, " comes into play 
excellently in the museums. The sarcophagi, which 
are, of course, not a very high form of art, are quite 
interesting to me ; and I find that I have consider- 
able faculty in interpreting them." 

As an indication of how closely his mind was to 
religious matters, and how deeply he held in rever- 
ence the great Christian teacher who excelled all 
men, I remember that after his return to America, 
on being asked what moved him most in Rome, he 
replied earnestly, referring to a visit to the Mamer- 
tine Prison, "I stood where Paul had stood." 

He writes often of the music at St. Peter's and the 
churches. At the former, he heard "the Tenebrse 
and the Miserere, tender and pathetic," — "tender 
and melancholy," in another place; and again he 
writes of hearing Eossini's Stabat Mater, given by 
an orchestra with soloists and a chorus of three hun- 
dred voices, where the king and queen of Italy were 
present, she "stately and beautiful, a trifle proud, 
perhaps, but queenly." 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 79 

The last afternoon in Rome was spent "working'' 
in the ruins on the Palatine; and the next noon, 
the friends left for Florence, where they arrived in 
the evening, passing through scenery that "was 
beautiful," Arthur writes, "rather than grand, up 
the valley of the Tiber, through miles of vineyards 
and mountain slopes planted with olive groves. . . . 
We passed in full view of Soracte, and along the 
roads we saw the white oxen of Clituninus." At 
sunset, the purple lights on the hills reminded him 
of the tender lights he had seen at the close of happy 
days in his favorite White Mountains. 

At Florence, in his visits to the galleries, he 
gained a greater appreciation of the Tuscan masters, 
especially of Fra Bartolommeo and Andrea del Sarto 
at the Pitti, where he saw the exquisite Raphaels, 
which he ever loved. At the Uffizi, he regarded 
the two Titians, the Venus of Urbino, and the Ve- 
nus Reposing as the gems of the gallery. The 
David in the Accademia appears to have given 
him more pleasure than any other work of Michel- 
angelo which he had seen; and he expressed much 
interest in the collection of Tuscan and Umbrian 
art, which makes that gallery of more value to the 
student than to the ordinary amateur or curious 
traveller. Of the cathedral he says: "I haven't 
made up my mind whether I like it or not. The 



80 AETHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

interior is the abomination of desolation;" but he 
admired the fresco of Giovanni Balducci, and the 
unfinished Pieta of Michelangelo he esteemed as 
superior to that of the same master at Rome. 

On the fourth day at Florence, after a morning at 
Santa Croce and the Uffizi, in consequence of an 
attack of the mumps, Arthur was obliged to se- 
quester himself; and he was not able to leave his 
room for eight days, These days were irksome and 
full of vexation; and he had his first and only sea- 
son of real homesickness. His friends proceeded 
on their journey; and he was forced to forego the 
pleasure which he had anticipated at Bologna, where 
he wished to see in its birthplace the work of the 
school of the Carracci, of which he had seen a fa- 
vorite example in the Aurora of Guido Reni at 
Rome. Then, too, beyond his present reach, was 
Venice and the glories of Titian, for which he had 
longed next to Athens and Rome. " To get within 
less than twenty-five miles of Venice," he writes, 
"as I shall do on the way, and not see it, is too 
much even for a saint, which I don't profess 
to be." 

Even unhappy and lonesome days have an end; 
and Arthur was finally able to devote two days to 
the galleries and churches of Florence. At San 
Marco he lingered before the beautiful frescoes of 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 81 

Fra Angelico in the cloisters where Savonarola had 
mused. "I was glad," he writes, " to go over the 
convent with the little arched cells under the open 
wooden roof, and to stand in the room of Savona- 
rola." I lis archaeological tastes revealed themselves 
in a visit to the Museo Archseologico, where "I 
went," he writes, "to see one Greek vase, the 
Franqois. I hated to get so near and not see it." 
He closes his letters from Florence with a summary 
in which lie sketches his views of Italian art in the 
concise and direct manner which he often used. 

•• I have learned a great deal of the early Italian paint- 
ers, whom I was inclined to scorn at first, except for their 
historical interest. Perugino, Fra Angelico, Fra Barto- 
lommeo, and even, at times, Lorenzo di Credi, are valu- 
able for their own sakes. Andrea del Sarto is a favorite 
with me; and I have come to know Raphael fairly well, 
I suppose. With the Venetians 1 have some acquaintance, 
and with the exception of Paolo Veronese, who is some- 
times good too, I like them; though I can't say I really 
know them until I have seen them in Venice. Titian's 
Flora, the two Venuses (at the Uffizi), and other works 
which I have seen are — splendid. In architecture, I 
have a pretty thorough-going contempt for Italian Gothic 
and for Renaissance as applied to churches. I haven't 
seen much of the Italian Romanesque; that at Pisa was 
excellent. The old basilicas have interested me and are 
effective; but they have generally been overloaded with 
a lot of Renaissance trumpery." 
6 



82 ABTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

He left Florence on a Saturday and passed the 
Sabbath at Verona, As there was no English church 
in the city, he was obliged to forego the habit, in 
which he was constant, of attending a Protestant 
service on Sunday wherever he might be. He makes 
a record of eight churches which he visited, and 
marks as worthy of attention the altar-piece of 
Titian in the cathedral, and the Martyrdom of Saint 
George in the church of San Giorgio in Braida; 
but the picture-gallery was closed. 

Early the next morning, he left Verona and Italy, 
over the Tyrolese Mountains and the Brenner Pass. 
He had hoped to stop at Munich to renew his ac- 
quaintance with the gallery and its superb collec- 
tion of the works of Rubens; but the lectures at 
Berlin had begun, and his duty called him back to 
the Brandenburger plains. A glimpse of the Ba- 
varia as he passed by, and a fleeting view of the 
pepper-box towers of the Frauenkirche, was all he 
saw of the city on the Iser. "The plains of Ba- 
varia were pleasing,' 7 he writes, "but not grand 
after the mountains of Tyrol. 77 The next morning, 
in a droschke at the Anhalter Bahnhof, his Italian 
journey came to an end. In an hour, after a ride 
of twenty-seven hours, Arthur was at lectures; and 
despite his fears, he had missed but one. That 
Hildreth, who had arrived before him, had attended 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 83 

and noted for his use. "lam as glad to get back 
to Markgrafenstrasse/' be writes, "as I was to get 
away." 

For the second semester, Arthur chose the follow- 
ing courses, in which the archaeological element 
begins to assume prominence : — 

1. Archiiologie der griechischen und romischen 
Kunst, Prof. Ernst Curtius. 

2. Interpretation romischer Sarkophage, Prof. 
Carl Robert. 

3. Hesiod's Werke und Tage, Prof. Adolf 
Kirchhoff. 

4. Leben und Tragodien des Euripides, Prof. 
Carl Robert. 

5. Xenophon's Schriften und Interpretation der 
Memorabilien, Prof. Hermann Diels. 

6. Rbmische Elegiker, Tibull, Properz, Ovid, 
Prof. Johannes Vahlen. 

These courses covered twenty hours of work in 
the lecture room each week, besides the time occu- 
pied by the second number of the list, which was a 
jiriratissime, the sessions of which were held at the 
house of Professor Robert, in Charlottenburg, on 
Monday evenings, and at other special times later 
in the semester. In this course, to which he was 
admitted rather unexpectedly to himself, he found 
much pleasure, and prepared for it a paper in Ger- 



84 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

man on the representation of the myth of Protesilaos 
on sarcophagi, which was read at the last meeting 
in July. He says of this : — 

" I got on fairly well. The professor criticised some 
things, but also said ' gut ' to others. He has such a civi- 
lized way in criticising that one can stand more from him 
than from some men. After the session, the boys wanted 
to drink a glass of beer together in parting, and those of 
us who were not otherwise engaged came over to the 
Capuzinerbrau near the Schloss, where we ate supper to- 
gether. They were rather amused at my not drinking 
beer, and bantered me some, of course." 

The lectures of Professor Curtius brought him 
nearer the Greek and Roman world than he had 
ever been. Often at the museum under the guid- 
ance of that eminent archaeologist, his brief notes 
indicate the interest he felt in ancient art and the 
critical knowledge he gained from the interpreta- 
tions of the ablest modern historian of Greece. 

The long twilights of the spring and early sum- 
mer gave him opportunities for out-door life, which 
he gladly improved by long walks in the parks, or 
visits with his friends to the gardens, "where the 
air was fresh and cool." The games of the children 
in the streets, and their busy spielwerk in the sand 
heaps of the public squares, especially in Belle 
Alliance Platz, attracted him in his natural love 
of children, and are often mentioned in his letters. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 85 

For these excursions "I have a straw hat," he 
writes, ''with a brim like an umbrella, " which 
caused his American friends to make " agricultu- 
ral remarks" about the crops. 

On "a perfect day" in May, he went out to 
Potsdam for a day's tramp in the Havelland, " where 
the air was scented with lilacs and everything was 
fresh and green." In the Orangerie, he was amused 
by a servant who complimented him as a Kunst- 
kenner, — art-knower, connoisseur, — because he 
" did n't rave as some people, English and Ameri- 
can, who cry 'beautiful' at everything." 

About the same time he writes of "a pleasant 
affair," when the Anglo-Americans sat down to a 
dinner at the Drei E-aben in honor of the Queen's 
birthday and Decoration Day, and Dr. Stuckenberg, 
who was a chaplain in the Union army, spoke for 
the Americans. 

On the fifteenth of June, at a quarter past eleven 
in the forenoon. Kaiser Friedrich died at Friedrichs- 
kron. Arthur writes : — 

"After the eleven o'clock lecture, I went with Hildreth 
into the vestibule of the University, and as we were there, 
Mack, a Harvard man, told us that the kaiser had gone. 
We had been expecting it for a day or so, but he went 
rather suddenly at the last. Looking out, I saw the flags 
at half-mast on the Opernhaus, and they were getting 
them up on the Library. I had Curtius the next hour; 



86 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

he was the kaiser's tutor in his younger days, and I did n't 
suppose he would lecture. He came, however, and spoke 
of the sad news in a voice so broken as to be hardly 
intelligible." 

Of the political events which followed the deaths 
of the two kaisers, Arthur was an interested spec- 
tator. With the progressive element of the city he 
was most in contact; but he learned to hold a just 
balance in his mind between the two extremes. He 
had a firm belief in the permanency of German 
institutions; and of Prince Wilhelm he expressed 
an early opinion that he would make a very able 
ruler, although he seemed to be unpopular with 
the liberals. 

On Independence Day, the American Club ex- 
cited German curiosity by a Yankee celebration. A 
sail on the Spree, from the Jannowitzbriicke to 
Treptow, was followed by a game of base ball at 
the latter place, and a dinner at Miiggelschlosschen, 
where they were three hours at the table. il After 
dinner," says Arthur, "I led the Harvard boys in 
some good 'rahs, and the Columbia men and the 
single representative of Williams got off their 
cheers.' ' 

His command of the German language was shown 
in an article in the " Berliner Zeitung," of the four- 
teenth of July, 1888, reviewing a misleading state- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 87 

ment relative to American church affairs, which 
appeared in that journal a few days before. This 
was complimented by German friends as containing 
little that betrayed a foreign pen; and it indicated 
a natural tendency of his mind to theological mat- 
ters, which were connected by subtile threads with 
his special work, or concerned most directly the 
deeper needs of his spiritual nature. This was 
evinced in a stronger degree during this semester, 
by a systematic examination of the Messianic proph- 
ecies, which he undertook by himself and in con- 
nection with German friends, Christians and Jews; 
and his impatience with anything short of the most 
thorough investigation comes to notice in the words 
with which he closes some remarks on this work: 
"I am hampered by not knowing Hebrew." To 
master this language and Sanscrit and Anglo-Saxon 
were things which he had laid up for the leisure 
hours of his later life. 

On the second of August, at the station in Fried- 
richstrasse, he parted with his friend Hildreth, who 
now returned to America; and a few days later, 
with his cousin, Samuel Arthur Chevalier, who 
after a residence in Paris and Dresden had now 
come to live with him in Markgrafenstrasse, he 
left Berlin for a short summer vacation and rest 
in the island of Rugen. "I had been so long in 



88 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

the city," he writes, "that the sight of natural 
scenery was a treat to me." Landing at Polchow, 
"we rode in the twilight, through fields of grain 
and poppies in full "bloom, through Sagard to Sass- 
nitz. 77 The fortnight there was a season of delight- 
ful rest, which was needed as much as enjoyed. Long 
walks along the shores and among the cliffs of Jas- 
mund invigorated body and mind. The natural 
beauties of the land itself, and the bright sea, which 
he ever loved with a keen delight (from the shore), 
soothed and refreshed him ; while the pagan antiqui- 
ties of the island interested his mind, and in the 
chalk-beds, seeking petrifactions, he was reminded 
of the geological excursions of his boyhood. 

On their return, the cousins arrived in Berlin on 
a Friday night. The next day, with his customary 
fidelity, Arthur, as he noted in his diary, "began 
work again; 77 and on Sunday he attended Dr. 
Cassel's Biblical Discussion, — "a real treat, 77 he 
writes. As the lectures were not to begin for eight 
weeks, he entered upon a course of private work 
with the antique casts in the museum, which he 
supplemented by study in the B-oyal Library; and 
for the benefit of the theological side of his mind, 
he attended the Bibelstunde of Dr. Thomas at the 
Nicolaikirche, and began a series of readings in 
the Greek gospels with a theologue, which was of 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 89 

mutual advantage, as the one was a specialist in 
theology and the other was well grounded in 
Greek. 

In his letters and diary, he often speaks of his 
stud}- at the museum, in which he was apparently 
collecting material for future use; and he speaks 
more definitely of a work which he had before men- 
tioned, the purpose of which he never relinquished, 
and which he fondly hoped might be the crowning 
labor of an active, scholarly life. The plan, I 
think, was clearly outlined in his mind. It pro- 
posed a history of Greek literature, from its rise to 
its close, and necessarily involved a history of 
Greek art, which his archaeological studies would 
have fitted him to follow. He says: — 

" It is not to be a school-book, but a thoroughly scien- 
tific work, the preparation of which would occupy at least 
twenty-five years. I intend to begin on the early period 
<>on as I complete my studies; in fact, I govern my 
choice of lectures now, to a certain extent, with a view to 
it. Perhaps I would be able to bring out the first volume 
after ten years. There is no thoroughly satisfactory work 
of this kind in German or English; and if possible, I 
want to publish in both languages. I regard this as my 
real work, and teaching as a secondary affair, — a neces- 
sary nuisance, if it interferes with this plan." 

Another work which he hoped to accomplish in 
the life which in his outlook he had filled with busy 



90 ARTHUE DELORAINE COREY. 

purposes, was an examination of the dependence 
between the Greek and other early myths and He- 
brew traditions and the Old Testament narratives. 
Believing, as he did, that behind all myths lie 
producing germs of positive history, he sought to 
brush away the varied influences of locality and 
race, and the increments of time, and to reduce 
each to its primitive traditionary form. Had he 
lived, his clear and vigorous intellect, with his 
peculiarly conscientious character, might have pro- 
duced works that would have justified his early 
dreams. 

How his busy mind was ever fashioning plans 
for active work was clearly shown in the last letter 
which he wrote in Europe to his mother, in the 
spring of 1891. In this he says : — 

"I have had a plan in my head for some time for a 
large mythological-theological work, which I wish to work 
out sometime ; but I don't want to hurry too much with 
it, particularly as the ground idea of it would meet with 
disbelief among the German archaeologists. It is nothing 
less than an apology for the truth of the main features 
of the account of the fall of man and the first Messianic 
promise as given in Genesis, defending them on the basis 
of ethnic mythology. Besides that, and possibly before 
that, I am meditating a history of Greek sculpture, so 
that my hands are likely to be full." 

In reviewing his first year in Europe, he writes : 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 91 

" A year ago last night we arrived in Berlin. ... I 
think I have received a general broadening in my meth- 
ods and appreciation of critical work, natural enough 
after the lectures. . . . Then, there was the Italian trip, 
rich in pleasant memories. Of course, there have been 
some trials in the year ; but I think that out of it all I 
have come a stronger man. I have grown, perhaps, more 
cosmopolitan and less narrowly American. ... In other 
respects, my character may have grown a little more an- 
gular, if possible, than it was before. I am, perhaps, 
more stubbornly self-reliant than I used to be; this is 
quite natural under the circumstances, as if one who is 
thrown into strange surroundings adheres to Ins old no- 
tions to a certain extent, he must develop a sort of stub- 
bornness. ... I think, on the whole, I have a good outlook, 
though I don't know what is in store for me." 

And a little later he adds : — 

" I think I have made good progress in my mental de- 
velopment in the last six months. I feel better able to 
deal critically with questions than ever before, though I 
have grown cautious in expressing opinions without tak- 
ing all the affecting influences into consideration." 

The courses for the third semester were as 
follows: — 

1. Griechische Mythologie, Prof. Carl Robert. 

2. Griechische Litteraturgeschichte, I. Theil, 
Prof. Adolf Kirchhoff. 

3. Einleitung in die Homerischen Gedichte und 
Erklarung ausgewahlter Stellen der Odyssee, Prof. 
Adolf Kirchhoff. 



92 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

4. Herodot, Prof. Hermann Diels. 

5. Interpretation der griechischen Vasen mit 
Ktinstlersignaturen, Prof. Carl Robert. 

The last was the archseological privatissime, which 
was held at the house of the Professor in Charlotten- 
burg. Of his admission Arthur says: "Professor 
Robert said he would be very glad to admit me 
again, and expressed himself as well satisfied with 
my work of last semester." For this he prepared a 
paper on "Phintias, ?? which was read in February. 

Although these courses gave him fewer hours of 
lecture work than those of the previous semester, 
his museum and other private work filled out his 
time to its utmost measure. "I lead the most 
regular existence imaginable, 7 ' he writes. "About 
the only dissipation I have recently indulged in is 
an occasional walk, or, once in a while, an hour or 
two on the theological books in the reading-room. 
I go to the museum more or less regularly in the 
morning." His work at the museum had been 
changed from the casts to the vases. The latter 
became a favorite subject, in connection with which 
he amassed a large fund of information carefully 
gathered and as carefully classified in the thorough 
manner which characterized him. It was his cus- 
tom to take notes of his lectures with care, that 
they might furnish the basis of future work. Forty- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 93 

six volumes, in English and German, with Greek 
and Latin quotations and references, testify to the 
fulness and extent of his studies, and the earnest- 
ness and thoroughness with which he wrought. In 
his methods and habits of study, he appears to have 
changed little, if at all, from the habits and meth- 
ods which he had followed at Cambridge; and the 
faithfulness, which had marked his childhood, had 
continued and had strengthened with his years. A 
characteristic instance of the pertinacity and hon- 
esty with which he was apt to follow his convic- 
tions, occurs in one of his letters near the close of 
this semester. Writing of a paper which he was 
preparing under some disadvantages, he says : — 

" I am alternately encouraged or discouraged, accord- 
ing as a certain point, which I made the corner-stone of 
my theory, appears tenable or otherwise. In order to 
hold it, I shall have to fly in the face of the latest ten- 
dencies in linguistic studies. But I will hold it. ... I 
held the prevalent theory once myself, but I became con- 
vinced that it was wrong; and even if I can't absolutely 
prove my position, I had rather follow my instinct than 
to acknowledge the truth of the other position." 

In the same letter he says: "I am tired of stone 
pavements and would like to see a little of the 
world as God made it;" and a little later he adds: 
"I have concluded at last to go to Paris." 

Between going and coming he had filled in the 



94 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

details of a delightful tour. He left Berlin on the 
morning of the eighth of March, 1889, and went 
to Cologne over "the stupid plains and through the 
enjoyable scenery around the Porta Westphalica. " 
A day was spent in revisiting the churches and 
galleries of Cologne, and in roaming in its pictur- 
esque and interesting streets; and Saturday night 
approaching, he went to Bonn, "to spend Sunday 
in the bosom of an American family," with his 
Harvard friend, Frank Louis Van Cleef, who, while 
studying at the University for a doctor's degree, 
was living there with his wife, a Cambridge lady. 
Arthur often spoke of this visit as one of the en- 
joyable things of his life. He had much in his 
habits and aspirations in common with his old 
friend; and they had much to talk over, both of 
the past and the future. "I enjoyed myself im- 
mensely," he wrote; and his Sunday visit length- 
ened out until Wednesday, when he went up the 
Rhine to Coblenz, reviving his memories of that 
noble stream and the traditions that crowd its vine- 
clad banks. That night he pushed on to Trier, 
where he examined with the interest of an anti- 
quary its Roman remains; and he went the next 
night to Metz, and to Paris on the following day. 

He remained in Paris a little over three weeks, 
weeks that were filled with as profound and intense 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 95 

study as those which he passed in the seclusion of 
his room in Berlin or at the University. In the 
streets and passages of Paris, he found in the re- 
mains of ancient domestic and secularized buildings, 
and in palaces and churches, that which gave em- 
ployment to his mind and added to his stores of 
knowledge. In the Romanesque and early French 
Gothic, he had pleasure; but he deprecated the 
transition to Renaissance and its accompanying 
Rococo, which always offended his taste. Yet in 
the latter he found a compensating interest in tra- 
cing its gradual historical changes and degrada- 
tion. Of the Pantheon he says: "This is an 
imposing building; but when you sit down and 
think, you will feel that it is ugly after all, ugly 
in that pompous fashion which is called 'the imi- 
tation of the classic.' " 

At the Louvre, with its unrivalled stores of plastic 
and pictorial art, he found his greatest enjoyment. 
Day after day he records his work. One day he 
spends upon the early Italians, another upon their 
later and more brilliant countrymen. The Ger- 
mans and other Northern schools follow; and to the 
early and classic French schools he gives three days, 
that he might better know the art of France where 
it can best be studied. Two days he gave to an- 
cient sculpture; and at the close, as if in despair 



96 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

of the present, he wrote: " Sculpture is a lost 
ar t ? — has "been since the Greeks dropped their 
chisels." 

In his letters, he indulges in an unconstrained 
and sometimes playful discussion of art as he saw 
it and as it influenced him. Perhaps, by the pres- 
ent fashionable rules of art, he might have been 
judged a heretic at times; but I question if his 
plain and sometimes nervous statements have not 
more of truth and real reverence and love than has 
that dilettanteism that goes on admiring every- 
where and forever. 

" I don't see," he writes, after a day at the Louvre, 
"on what, the Last Supper and some portraits excepted, 
the fame of Lionardo rests. His faces are often idiotic, 
as his Saint John the Baptist here ; Baedeker calls it ' an 
enthusiastic, ecstatic expression ; ' I would call it, rather, 
an idiotic, sensual grin, as if he thought the cross in his 
hand were somehow a good joke, which he wanted the 
spectator to enjoy. The same grin, or a similar one, per- 
haps not quite so bad, is on several of his paintings. His 
portrait of Mona Lisa, on the contrary, is superb. In 
pieces where he tries to paint landscapes as backgrounds, 
he usually makes a lot of impossible daubs, as in the 
Virgin of the Rocks. A painter for whom I have a spe- 
cial dislike is Paolo Veronese; I have seen one or two 
good pictures by him, — a Danae in Turin is the best ; 
but when he paints religious scenes, as he usually does, 
nothing can be more worldly than his huge canvases. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 97 

The Meal at Emmaus becomes a Renaissance feast, also 
the Marriage of Cana. Baedeker, in his general remarks 
on the Louvre, hits him off pretty shortly by saying, after 
be lias discussed the other Italian masters: 'The banquet- 
ing scenes by Paolo Veronese, in a rich, but somewhat 
materialistic style, are too large to be easily overlooked.' 
That 's it ! Their chief claim to recognition consists in the 
amount of canvas used." 

Murillo, so magnificently represented at the 
Louvre, is a master upon whose works he looked 
with reverent eyes. On the last day of this visit 
in Paris he wrote: "I went back to the pictures. 
I looked over the great ones again; Murillo's Im- 
maculate Conception fettered me most of all: it is 
rapturous, — worthy to be placed with the Sistine 
Madonna and Kaphael's Transfiguration." 

The gorgeous allegories of the Life of Marie de 
Medicis impressed him less than the works of Ru- 
bens in general. "The subjects displease me," he 
writes, "and there is too much nude flesh. His 
nude figures are too apt to degenerate into 'beef,' 
which isn't pleasant." Then, alluding to the fre- 
quency with which Eubens, Andrea del Sarto, and 
others used the faces and figures of their wives in 
their compositions, he says : — 

"I have heard that Murillo's Madonnas, which are 
mostly similar, — one here seems to depart from the 
usual standard, somewhat, — are taken from a girl whom 

7 



98 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

he loved, but who died young. After her death, he re- 
peated her face in his pictures. I think the study of 
models used by the masters would prove very fruitful, 
though it might spoil some of our ideals. I am inclined 
to suspect that the model may have had quite as much 
to do with the renown of many works as the talent of 
the painter himself. Do you suppose that the Sistine 
Madonna ever walked the streets of Rome or hung around 
the Piazza di Spagna, waiting for some artist to hire her 
to pose ? " 

Of the French painters he said : — 

"Altogether, I don't take very kindly to them. The 
earlier ones, like Poussin and Le Sueur, are pretty, often- 
times, but rarely great. The later are, of course, wonder- 
fully skilful, but they lack depth in the choice of subjects. 
The Romanticists, like Delacroix and Gericault, I don't 
like. They use a tremendous variety of color, and the 
general effect is ' messy ; ' their paintings do not have 
that poise and composure which make a really satisfac- 
tory work; they are too tragic and emotional. Ary 
Scheffer I rather like, — that is, his Saint Augustine and 
Monica, and the Temptation of Christ ; still, I think, a 
little of that he has given us in those works goes a good 
way. I don't like the extent to which they have culti- 
vated historical scenes. I like the holy stories of the 
Italian masters much better. When the subjects are 
taken from the history of France, they don't touch me 
at all. They are nothing but ebullitions of national 
pride, like a Fourth of July oration. When, on the 
other hand, they paint Brutus and other Roman wor- 
thies, I can't feel much enthusiasm either ; such things 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 99 

are unreal, both to the painter and his public; they be- 
long to a dead past, which had better be left to bury 
its dead. Why not paint something of general interest, 
which can enrapture the emotions, like a Madonna or 
a Transfiguration? A couple of Perugino's sweet-faced 
saints or angels will touch the emotions more than a 
hundred Roman consuls. The difference, perhaps, is 
that the former spring right from the painter's heart, 
while the latter come from his Livy or his Vergil. But 
the moderns, even when they attempt religious pieces, 
usually fail; I can count on my fingers the few really 
good religious paintings from this century which I have 
seen. Perhaps this is because our age does n't believe 
any more. Young artists, in particular, are usually wild 
and sceptical, I fear ; but the convent would be a better 
school for them than the club ; there they would at least 
learn faith. How can a man paint Christ to whom 
Christ is merely a myth? Must not his religious works be 
as cold and formal as his Roman scenes? Then, they 
pay too much attention to technical niceties. A young 
man here told me that the students do very little copy- 
ing of the old masters. To me this seems like turning 
from the living fountains and hewing out broken cis- 
terns. If I were an art student, I would copy, copy, 
copy Rubens, Titian, Raphael, for three or four years; 
and I believe that I would get farther than by sticking 
in a back room and daubing under a teacher." 

At the Luxembourg he studied with no less dili- 
gence the work of the later men, "many of whose 
pictures," he writes, "appear to have been painted 
to show technical skill, especially in the treatment 



100 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

of the nude, more than for any particular value in 
the subjects themselves." Nothing pleased him 
there like Bourguereau's Yierge Consolatrice, his 
Burial of Saint Cecilia, and the Birth of Venus. 
The latter, "In spite of a hackneyed subject," he 
says, u is charming." The first he considered one 
of the best modern religious pieces he had seen, al- 
though, I think, had he spoken in detail, he would 
have given a higher place to the Child Jesus in the 
Temple and the Adulteress before Christ of Hof- 
mann at Dresden, in which, he once said, he saw 
the most perfect Christ of recent art. Later, when 
he had broadened and strengthened his opinions by 
an acquaintance with the galleries of London and 
a return to the Louvre, and had gained a larger 
knowledge of Flemish and Dutch art at Amsterdam 
and Brussels and the lesser towns of the Nether- 
lands, he says, in a characteristic letter: — 

" The old Flemings of the fifteenth century are, in 
their way, wonderful painters, to my mind much above 
most of the early Italians, about whom certain critics 
have made so much ado. They have a common-sense 
realism and a minute faithfulness in details, and a won- 
derfully rich, deep coloring. It would be interesting to 
know what would have become of the school if they had 
never come under Italian influence. As a matter of fact, 
they fell into a period of decline in the sixteenth cen- 
tury, to awaken art its close, or in the early part of the 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 101 

next century, to the glories of Rubens, whose influence 
became predominating, though, with the exception of 
Van Dyck, none of the pupils equalled the master; and 
to me Van Dyck, with perhaps some exceptions, as in 
his portraits, is best when he is most like Rubens. , . . 
A painter must, first of all, be religious, and his art 
must be, through and through, religious; separate art 
and religion, and art becomes artificial and showy, ex- 
cept, perhaps, in the case of genre painting. Nine tenths 
of the pictures painted now are painted merely to show 
what the artist can do, or to tickle the public eye. 
Landscape painting is the most successfully cultivated 
line of work, and yet landscape is a low form of art; 
only as a background for figures has it any right to ex- 
ist in the highest art. The rest of art is largely busied 
with historical subjects, which smell too strongly of 
books to be enjoyable, or with miserable mythological 
trash, which is, mostly, scarcely mythological, as it deals 
with such colorless personifications as Spring, Evening, 
and such nonsense ; or else the artists take subjects from 
common life in various parts of the world, and often- 
times the subject is chosen more with regard to the op- 
portunity for working in the nude than for anything else. 
Xow, I have no Puritanic objections to the nude on prin- 
ciple; but it must be demanded by and grow naturally 
out of the subject of the picture in order to be in place. 
The subject should be the paramount idea; but many 
modern pictures give one the impression that the sub- 
jects were chosen for the sake of the nude element which 
could be worked into them. The old painters sometimes 
err in this respect, too, — and my favorite Rubens does 
so often, — but less frequently than the modern figure- 
painters, and in a more sensible way, in many cases. I 



102 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

want a picture which tells me a story, and tells it so plainly 
that I need n't have to hunt up a book to understand it ; 
and the old legends of apostles and saints and the gospel 
story itself must ever, from this point of view, remain the 
chief material of a true art.'' 

In the intervals of what we must call his studies 
in Paris, when the galleries were closed, or when, 
in his own words, he "was wearied with a good 
healthful weariness," he delighted in the street 
life, watching it as he leisurely walked through 
narrow streets and passages, or along the boulevards, 
or looking down upon it from the tops of omnibuses 
and tramway-cars, at the close of the day, when the 
ways were crowded and the busy life of pleasure, so 
characteristic of Paris, began. The latter was, es- 
pecially, a favorite pastime; and he said that the 
common traveller, who rides in carriages and nacres, 
has little knowledge of the variety and picturesque- 
ness of the street life of a great city, which one may 
enjoy from the elevated and democratic outlook of 
the imperiale. It was rest and enjoyment, he said; 
and he was most pleased when he could sit near the 
driver and hear the argot, which he hurled, in good- 
nature or wrath, at the hurrying crowd below. 

In Paris he found and attended, while he re- 
mained there, the first Sunday school which he had 
seen in Europe, — "that is," he says, "a regular 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 103 

one;" and he made himself a frequent and wel- 
come visitor at the rooms of the Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association. At length, after having been 
threatened with "a touch of homesickness for 
Deutschland, " with a parting look at the pictures 
in the Louvre, — "I felt sorry at leaving the 
Louvre," he writes, — he left Paris on the morning 
of the eighth of April. On his return, he revisited 
Metz and Trier, and renewed his remembrances of 
the churches at Coblenz, especially of St. Castor, 
which he had hurriedly examined in 1887. At 
Cassel he spent a longer time, attracted by the gal- 
lery there, with its noble collection of Dutch and 
Flemish art. 

Arthur had long been conscious that his Ameri- 
can training had not brought him in Latin to the 
perfection of the German standard. Professor Diels, 
with ready sympathy, expressed the opinion that 
the fault was with the system under which he had 
studied, rather than with the man, and advised him 
to follow the language for a while with his peculiar 
energy (Ihren eignen Energie), writing and speaking 
under the supervision of a proper teacher, and so 
to come to surety and skill (Sicfierheit und Gewandt- 
heit). On his return from Paris, he entered at once 
upon a course of energetic study with Dr. Ernst 
Kichter, formerly of Bonn, in whom he found a 



104 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

competent teacher and an esteemed companion and 
friend. "He will give me a powerful grind/' wrote 
Arthur; and the result is clearly shown in the La- 
tinity of his doctor's dissertation. 

He chose for the courses of the summer semester 
of 1889 — 

1. Einfuhrung in die griechische Philosophic und 
Erklarung ausgewahlter Bruchstticke nach Eitter- 
Preller Historia phil. gr., Prof. Hermann Diels. 

2. Uber die Dialecte der Griechischen Sprache, 
Prof. Adolf Kirchhoff. 

3. Geschichte der griechischen Heldensage, Prof. 
Carl Robert. 

4. Catullus Elegieen nebst Callimachus Hymnen, 
Prof. Johannes Vahlen. 

5. Uber litterarische und historische Kritik, Prof. 
Eduard Zeller. 

6. Erklarung ausgewahlter Monumente, Prof. 
Carl Eobert. 

7. Archaologische Ubungen im Koniglichen Mu- 
seum, Prof. Reinhard Kekule. 

These, with two hours under Dr. Eichter and 
an equal time in the Latin Seminar, gave twenty- 
four hours of work, besides the time used for prep- 
aration and private work at the libraries and the 
museum, to which was added, later in the semester, 
two sessions at the Archaologische Apparat. " This 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 105 

hasn't all begun yet," he wrote early in the se- 
mester; "but when it gets to going, I shall have 
to spin." 

The sixth course was a continuation of the priva- 
tissime at Charlottenburg, of which he was now one 
of the oldest members. At the suggestion of Pro- 
fessor Robert, he prepared a paper, connected with 
his favorite study of vases, on "Herakles and the 
Amazons," which was read at the close of the se- 
mester and gave him the basis of his doctor's dis- 
sertation. The influence of Professor Robert on 
Arthur in archeology was strong; and the student 
readily became confirmed in the views of the origin 
and nature of myths which he had early adopted, 
and of which he found Robert a powerful advocate. 
Arthur writes of his master: — 

" lie will have nothing to do with the modern sun-and- 
cloud-myth notions, except to 'sit on them.' He even 
denies that Apollo was originally a sun-god. . . . His 
method of going at the question is sensible ; instead of 
trying to get Greek mythology out of the Eddas and the 
Vedas, he collects the notices preserved in authors and 
inscriptions of the actual temples, cults, and cult-usages. 
This he combines with the notices of the god concerned 
in Homer and in such authors as can be used safely in 
the investigation, and so builds up the conception of the 
personage. . . . The folly of the sun-myth men is appar- 
ent, when we see them finding Yedic parallels for things 
which never entered the head of a Greek until the fifth 



106 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

century, b. c. I am an enthusiast for Robert's mytho- 
logical views, and hope to be able to spread them when 
I go back to America, as a counterblast to the perni- 
cious twaddle of Cox and his school." 

The seventh course was a one-hour privatissime, 
to which Arthur obtained admittance, under Pro- 
fessor Kekule, who, having won a reputation at 
Bonn as one of the foremost archaeologists of Ger- 
many, had been brought to Berlin as Director of 
Sculptures by the influence of the kaiser, who as 
a student had heard him at Bonn. It was not rec- 
ognized as University work in the Verzeichniss der 
Vorlesungen of that semester; but Kekule, as Pro- 
fessor honorarius, became a regular lecturer at the 
beginning of the next year. 

This was a busy semester, yet there is no evidence 
of haste or looseness in the work of the student. 
His steadiness and strong will, which seemed to 
make light of all obstacles, and his remarkable 
powers of memory, carried him easily through that 
which to many would have been a season of over- 
work and defeat. Outside of philology and archaeol- 
ogy, his interest in theological matters was unabated, 
and often led him for relaxation and rest, as he 
said, to investigate subjects which involved labor 
that few would have willingly undertaken. Vaca- 
tions, on occasions of religious feasts and fasts, 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 107 

gave him opportunities for hearing the ablest preach- 
ers of the Berlin pulpit; and not the least inter- 
esting portions of his letters are those in which he 
characterizes the men whom he heard. For the 
Jewish Mission and its services at the little Heili- 
gegeistkirche, where he was a frequent attendant, 
he lost none of his love. He often spoke of its 
preachers and officers as among his dearest German 
friends, and of his companionship with them as 
something that strengthened and helped him. Nor 
were the American church and his friends there for- 
gotten; but his unselfish spirit, guiding his willing 
heart and hands, gave itself witli devotion to the 
helpful and loving work which gathered around the 
pulpit and home of the Stuckenbergs. 

Under the date of the twenty-first of June, he 
entered in his diary: "At Dr. Stuckenberg's at 
a meeting to form a Young Men's League." This 
association, which, I believe, had a previous exist- 
ence without a definite organization, had for its 
purpose the assistance and protection not only of 
its members, but of all English and American young 
men in Berlin. Arthur's connection with this 
work of a Christian brotherhood is best described 
in a letter written since his death by a committee 
of the league : — 



108 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

"During the three years of his residence in Berlin, 
Dr. Corey was one of the most faithful members of our 
society. As a means of binding together the English- 
speaking young men in Christian fellowship and sympa- 
thy, the league was ever close to his heart, and no small 
part of the responsibility of its management rested upon 
his shoulders. His blameless life and earnest Christian 
character were to us who were privileged to know him 
a constant source of inspiration to all that was highest 
and best. For the warm sympathy and help which his 
life brought to us, we thank God, feeling that that life, 
though seemingly cut off on the threshold of a career of 
unusual promise, has not been in vain." 

The result of his paper on the Amazons having 
confirmed him in the belief that its subject would 
be a proper one for a doctor's dissertation, he began 
to add to the materials which he had collected, and 
arranged to continue his investigations in the mu- 
seums of London and Paris. His purpose led him 
into a wide and careful examination in all direc- 
tions where any light might be thrown upon the 
lost story of "Herakles and the Amazons," which 
he sought to recover, and upon antique representa- 
tions, which he proceeded to classify and describe. 
Sculptures, vases, and gems furnished illustrations 
that were to be brought into their proper places. 
Poets, historians, philosophers, — all the ranges of 
classical literature, were to be examined; and a 
long and exhaustive research through commentaries 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 109 

and catalogues was to reveal that which had disap- 
peared from sight. The material thus gathered 
came from the public museums and the private 
cabinets of Europe, and from printed catalogues and 
notices in eight languages. 

On the tenth of August, as the steamship "Urn- 
bria' ; lay off Queenstown, I received a letter from 
Arthur. He was already in London, and had been 
busy for a week at the British Museum, where by 
the kindness of Mr. Alexander S. Murray, keeper 
of the department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, 
himself an eminent archaeologist, he had enjoyed 
unusual facilities for studying the magnificent col- 
lections of ancient art. With an assistant to re- 
move from the cabinets articles of which he desired 
a closer view, he obtained not only valuable mate- 
rial for the compilation which was chiefest in his 
mind, but an experimental knowledge that added 
stores to that which he already possessed. 

Somehow the day was brighter and the sky more 
blue for that letter. It was Sunday morning when 
I arrived at Liverpool, and the Northwestern Ex- 
press was all too slow for my impatience. It was 
afternoon when I came to London and found myself 
in Arthur's room; and the changes were ringing, 
in an almost human sympathy with me, from a 
neighboring tower. He had not expected me until 



110 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

evening; and with his usual care of time and of 
the Sabbath, he had gone to hear Canon Liddon at 
St. Paul's, after a morning service at the Jews' 
Episcopal Chapel. When he came, 1 found my boy 
again, — not, perhaps, to outward sight just as I left 
him at the station in Berlin two years before. He 
was a little stouter and taller. His face had grown 
more mature, and in his thoughtful eyes there was 
that look of introspection which, though possessed at 
times by many scholars, had become more habitual 
with him than with most men. 

How we talked that night, passing in review all 
the past season of his absence! All the privacies 
of our home-life were to come to him. All the story 
of his work and hopes was to come to me. Then, 
I found our little boy again. There were the same 
open-hearted confidence and the same trustful ear- 
nestness with which he would come to me as a child, 
bringing his boyish pleasures and griefs. Much I 
learned that night of his faithfulness, and of his 
broad outlook upon the future. With the plain 
directness which always marked his speech, and 
with simple sincerity, he spoke of all that lay near- 
est his heart. I think he had, in his honest trust- 
fulness, no secret which he kept from others that 
he did not confide to me. I thank God that then, 
as ever, he knew me as a companion, and that in 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. Ill 

our intercourse we were brothers rather than a father 
and a son. The edge of grief is dulled by the rec- 
ollection of mutual companionship and respect. 

It were difficult to reduce to details the story of 
those weeks of our companionship. In my remem- 
brance, as it stands in contrast with our present 
sorrow, it is a pleasant dream, whose shadowy pres- 
ence mocks the reality that can never return. 

Arthur's special work was nearly finished when 
I arrived; but we passed together many pleasant 
hours at the museum, and I found how closely he 
had learned the story of the ancient world, and how 
self-reliant and free he was in its interpretation. It 
was a familiar thing; but familiarity had not re- 
duced it to the commonplace, and he approached it 
with reverence and love. Nor was there a lack of 
modesty in his familiarity. Positive he was at 
times, but never dogmatic; for he held that pres- 
ent knowledge is only the stepping-stone to greater 
heights and wider views. 

His letters, which have preserved so much of his 
impressions and thoughts, fail us during this visit 
to London. Twice a week, in Berlin or abroad, 
he had written to us; and he playfully said that 
he deserved a vacation while I was with him. So 
we have of those days but a slight record in his 
diary, presenting little beyond brief notes of each 



112 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

day's work or pleasure. Yet, from his conversa- 
tion I gained, perhaps, a deeper knowledge of him 
than I could have gathered from his letters. And 
how rich was that conversation, as in museum, or 
gallery, or church, by comparison and criticism or 
examination, he made me to see how travel and 
study had filled and strengthened his mind. 

It was not strange that, with his love of the 
essential principles of the Romanesque, he was 
attracted by the simple and massive Norman style 
that one may study so well in London in the Tem- 
ple Church, in the chapel of St. John in the 
Tower, and in the remains of the beautiful church 
of St. Bartholomew the Great. In Westminster 
Abbey, where there is so much to admire and so 
much, for artistic reasons, to condemn, he found in 
a still greater degree that human interest that ap- 
pealed so strongly to him in Antwerp. Thither 
we returned, again and again; and he found each 
time renewed inspiration in the memories of the 
past that throng its hallowed walls and fill the 
walks of its time-worn cloisters. Nor was it for 
mere sight-seeing that he visited so often the ven- 
erable shrine of England's honor and pride. "I 
studied through the chapels slowly," he writes, 
"and enjoyed the time." The chapel of Henry 
the Seventh he admired for the perfection of its 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 113 

exquisite work; the abbey itself he valued most of 
all for its associations. Yet he never allowed sen- 
timent, which he enjoyed for itself, to blunt his 
perceptions or hinder his habits of observation. 
Keenly alive was he to all that revealed the history 
of the work before him; and he saw, with an almost 
unerring eye, the arch or moulding that recorded 
the elevation or debasement of a style, or marked 
the age that gave them form. 

Of the churches of the seventeenth and eighteenth 
centuries, of which London shows so many inter- 
esting examples, he said: "The churches, in a great 
number of cases, show the direct or indirect im- 
press of the style of Sir Christopher Wren, which 
is, to be sure, somewhat pleasing. It is infinitely 
better than the Rococo of the continent." 

In London Arthur had the first opportunity of 
seeing to any extent the work of the British paint- 
ers. I think he gave them no high place in his 
estimation as compared with the masters of the 
Continental schools. The latter had so fully filled 
his mind that the moderns really had but little 
place with him, except for their excellencies in 
technique, and sometimes in composition and color, 
which he always recognized. In later art he failed 
to find, except on rare occasions, anything that ap- 
proached that sincerity and devotion of the older 
8 



114 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

men with which he was so much in sympathy and 
which were of kinship to the honesty and faithful- 
ness of his own character. Hogarth he admired, to 
a certain extent, for his didactic force and mastery 
of color. Of the later men he says in his diary: 
"Many of them are very attractive, but Landseer's 
animals pleased me best of all;" and some of the 
works of Mulready at South Kensington interested 
him for their sympathy with child-life, perhaps, and 
their harmonious coloring, either of which qualities 
were likely to appeal to his feelings. With Turner, 
I gather, he was at first not satisfied, missing in 
his works that directness which pleased him best, 
and puzzled over a mystery of color and form that 
seemed to veil the truth which he sought. I can- 
not forget the moment when the revelation of the 
great artist came to him. It was on one of those 
dull gray days, which come so often in London, that 
we sat in the Turner room at the National Gallery; 
and the bright colors seemed to lie in inharmonious 
masses on the great canvases. Suddenly there came 
a burst of sunlight falling fully upon the wall be- 
fore us, and the struggling masses of color blazed 
in a glory of light. I remember his exclamations 
of pleasure and surprise, and how he went again 
around the room, finding new beauties and excel- 
lencies. After that he counted Turner among those 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 115 

artists that lie cared for. I find in his diary a half- 
regretful notice of his last visit to the National 
Gallery, when he took a farewell of "Raphael, 
Perugino, Franeia, Titian, Turner, and all the rest," 
naming them, perhaps, in the order in which they 
were ranked in his mind. I can understand how, 
coming from the National Gallery, he could place 
the painters of the Certosa Madonna and the Buon- 
vi>a altar-piece before "Titian and all the rest." 

On a pleasant day in the vicinity of Hampton 
Court, Arthur's love for quiet rural scenery was 
gratified to the fullest extent. We had spent the 
morning in the palace, where in the large and va- 
ried collections of art he had found pleasure and 
profit in the contemplation of that which three hun- 
dred years of royal care has brought together, se- 
lecting as of special interest and value "several 
portraits by Holbein and the Baptism of Christ by 
Francesco Franeia; " and after a lunch at noon in 
a little riverside inn, we rode through Bushey 
Park to Teddington and back. Then we walked a 
long way on the river bank, through the fresh 
meadows, strolling leisurely under the beauty of a 
blue sky by glittering waters and cool green groves. 
I remember how Arthur's spirits rose in the ramble, 
quickening his motions and speaking in the exult- 
ant tones of his voice. "The day was perfect," 



116 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

he writes in his diary, "and the boats- in the river 
added life to a lovely scene. It was one of .the 
most idyllic places I ever saw." I remember it 
now for its associations with the day at Heidelberg, 
and another day as lovely at Versailles, the pleas- 
ant memories of which were in his mind a few 
hours before his death. 

We spent my last forenoon in London at West- 
minster Abbey, in the midst of the scenes which 
had become familiar and dear to both. Dearer to 
me now are they, as I recall the companionship of 
those happy days. In the quiet of the gray old 
cloisters, our favorite haunt, we walked and talked 
a long time; and at the last, sitting by the statue 
of Pitt at the great west door, Ave reviewed earnestly 
all we had said of the past and the future. In our 
weakness and short-sightedness, life was bright and 
the future secure. Alas! as if by fate, we were 
sitting beneath the memorial of Jeremiah Horrocks, 
whose youthful promise and early death, had we 
heeded them, would have told us of the uncertainty 
of life and the vanity of earthty hopes. 

Arthur remained in London two days after I had 
left him, giving one to some final work at the mu- 
seum, and spending some time with his cousins, 
the Chevaliers, who had been there during our stay. 
From London he proceeded to Paris, by the way of 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 117 

Dieppe, stopping one day at Rouen for the sake of 
its churches. 

At Paris, where he remained ten days, by the 
kindness of M. Edmond Pottier of the Musee du 
Louvre, and M. Ernest Babelon of the Cabinet des 
Medailles et Antiques at the National Library, he 
was given facilities for the prosecution of his work 
equal to those he had enjoyed in London; and the 
Musee Ce'ramique at Sevres, where he found a single 
piece which illustrated his subject, was freely open 
to his examination. When he returned to Berlin, 
he had seen and closely examined all the antiques 
in the public collections of London and Paris which 
threw light upon the subject he had in hand, and 
had learned, in his intercourse with the archaeolo- 
gists he had met, how universal among the schol- 
ars of all nations is the spirit of brotherhood, and 
how freely the riches of the museums and galleries 
of Europe are open to him who seeks them with an 
earnest purpose. 

His days at Paris were almost entirely passed in 
the Louvre and at the National Library; and he 
gave little time to the ordinary pleasures of the 
tourist. A few brief visits to the churches which 
especially interested him, or a ride upon the roof 
of an omnibus at the close of the day, were the 
most of his indulgences. He mentions three hasty 



118 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

visits to the Exposition, which in the summer of 
1889 attracted crowds of strangers to Paris, where 
he found the most interest in the exhibition of 
modern art. ' ' I don't care much for Buckeye reap- 
ers and other improved implements," he writes. 
"Nothing that I saw looked more comforting than 
a pair of boots with John H. Parker's name, in the 
exhibit of the Boston Bubber Shoe Company." 

From Paris he went to Cologne, where he passed 
a day; and joining the Van Cleefs at Bonn, he spent 
three days with them upon the Bhine, going as 
far as Bingen and the Niederwald. For him the 
Bhineland never lost its beauty. "Though I have 
seen much of it," he writes, "it never loses a shad- 
owy mist of romance. When I am on it, it looks 
matter-of-fact enough and has an every-day aspect; 
but in a month, the same romantic mist settles 
down on mj memories of it." 

He left his friends at Coblenz and returned to 
Cologne, from whence he went to Hildesheim, drawn 
thither by the fame of its churches and the beauty 
of its mediaeval streets. In a brief note, he writes 
of those things which pleased him most in his ram- 
bles in that ancient home of Romanesque art, of 
the ceiling-paintings of St. Michael's, which show 
"wonderful skill and freshness," the cloisters of 
the Dom, and the chapel of St. Anne. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 119 

On his return to Berlin, he had relinquished, 
though not without a feeling of disappointment, 
the purpose which he had long entertained of an 
early visit to Greece, where he intended to remain 
a year before taking his degree in Germany. He- 
had carried from Cambridge a deep interest in the 
American School of Classical Studies at Athens. 
As a student of the Berlin University he would 
have been allowed to attend the German Institute; 
and it is probable that he would have taken advan- 
tage of his privileges in both schools. His enthu- 
siasm for the work which he could do in Greece 
might have led him to carry out his wishes; but 
Professor Bobert so earnestly sought to dissuade 
him that he was hesitating, when a letter from 
Professor Goodwin of Cambridge settled the ques- 
tion, and he set the long wished-for visit in the 
future, as a reward which he promised himself after 
he had obtained the doctor's degree. He never re- 
gretted this course; for he saw that an absence from 
Berlin at this time would have broken in upon his 
studies to an extent for which the year at Athens 
would hardly have compensated. 

The consideration of the work which he had 
planned induced him to devote fewer hours to the 
lecture-room; and his courses for the winter semes- 
ter of 1889-90, reduced to thirteen hours, were as 
follows : — 



120 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

1. Geschichte der hellenistischen Kunst, Prof. 
Carl Robert. 

2. Griechische Privatalterthiimer, Prof. Carl 
Robert. 

3. Archaologische Ubungen, Prof. Carl Robert. 

4. Geschichte der griechischen Plastik, im Ko- 
niglichen Museum, Prof. Reinhard Kekule. 

With some hesitation he decided to drop out of 
the privatissime of Professor Robert, and substi- 
tuted the third course in the list, known as the 
"little" ubungen, Avhich had the advantage of 
being held in Berlin and of being conducted by 
extemporaneous discussions. Besides these courses 
and a regular attendance at the apparat and the 
seminar, he continued the bi-weekly Latin exer- 
cises with Dr. Richter, and, although perhaps in 
a less degree than before, his private researches and 
observations in the museums and libraries. The 
material which he had collected in London and 
Paris was now compared and arranged with that 
which he had before gathered in Berlin, and began 
to be supplemented by a careful and extended read- 
ing for illustrations from obscure sources, which in- 
volved the examination of many catalogues of mu- 
seums and private collections, even, sometimes, of 
auction sales, in which, he says, "one may find 
little or nothing that is wanted." "A large part 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 121 

of my work lately," lie adds, "has been about as 
interesting as reading a lot of indexes would be." 
As this work progressed and the substance began 
to grow into form under his hands, I find him writ- 
ing at times with satisfaction and even enthusiasm, 
and sometimes with expressions of disappointment 
and anxiety, as in some obscure lines the material 
seemed inadequate to his purpose or a temporary 
weariness disheartened him. Yet his discourage- 
ments were never of long duration; and his perti- 
nacity and courage, with the activity and clearness 
of his mind, carried him easily and readily over 
all obstacles to the end. 

I find evidences that this winter was in many 
ways the most pleasant he had passed in Europe. 
Berlin had become to him a second home, to which 
he was attached and where he had found friends 
whom he loved and esteemed. Of his connection 
with the students at this time he writes: — 

"During this semester I have got into the acquaint- 
ance of the German students more, and have been less 
apart. Of this I am glad. Before, I was a foreigner 
who came and went; nobody knew much about me. 
The work on my dissertation has brought me more in 
contact with the archaeological men, and next semester 
I shall belong to the veterans." 

His interest in the work of the American church, 
with the Young Men's League and the Temperance 



122 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Society, continued to give employment to much of 
the little leisure which he allowed himself; and he 
was as sincere and devoted in his voluntary con- 
nection with the Jewish Mission, among the officers 
and preachers of which he found some of his most 
intimate and dearest friends. 

Soon after his return from Paris, he had removed 
with the Briske family to Jerusalemerstrasse, where 
he remained until March, when, in consequence of 
a second removal to a distant part of the city, he 
went to the pension of Frau Dr. Elise Liidde, at 
the corner of Friedrichstrasse and Schutzenstrasse. 
He had lived in the family of Frau Briske two 
years and a half, and had found a pleasant home, 
from which he parted with regret. His life there, 
and the happy hours which it had given him, were 
remembered with pleasure when the ocean separated 
him from the familiar scenes and faces which he 
was to see no more. In the new home he found 
agreeable surroundings and congenial acquaintances, 
and remained there until his final departure from 
Berlin. 

Of an event which gratified his patriotism and 
filled him with memories of his own New England, 
he writes in November: " Great preparations are 
being made for the Thanksgiving dinner. Oysters 
and sweet potatoes have been ordered from America, 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 123 

and rnince and pumpkin pies are to be served." 
This dinner, at which Minister Phelps presided and 
Count Herbert Bismarck was present, was given at 
tlie Kaiserhof and was quite successful, eclipsing in 
some respects the more limited dinners which had 
been given in former years by the ladies of the 
American church. Speeches and music followed 
the dinner; and "an opera singer, Alvari, a Ger- 
man by birth, but who has been much in America, 
sung the Star Spangled Banner and the Suwanee 
River, with good effect." A little later, he writes 
of an afternoon tea given by the ladies of the 
American Embassy at the new house of Mr. Phelps; 
but a less pleasant affair was an attack of the in- 
fluenza, which was then prevalent in Europe as well 
as America, which confined him to his room sev- 
eral days and troubled him with its depressing 
effects much longer. 

In December he was disquieted by the announce- 
ment that Professor Robert was to go to Halle at 
the end of the semester. He nearly resolved to 
follow his friend in his removal; but an attach- 
ment to Berlin, and a desire to finish there what 
he had so well begun, determined his course. The 
archaeological men gave a kneipe at the close of the 
semester in honor of their departing teacher, of 
which Arthur writes: — 



124 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

" The Abschiedsf eier for Professor Robert was given at 
the Pschorr-Brau, as I wrote. Robert made a few heart- 
felt remarks; and an archaeological farce, full of jokes 
and fun, written for the occasion, was performed. I 
drank my selters out of an earthern beer-mug and got 
home at two o'clock. To-day Robert ended his lectures. 
At the second one, a number of his old pupils were pres- 
ent ; and his desk and chair were decorated with green, 
which is a high testimonial of respect. After the lecture 
I walked with him a little way. Almost his last words 
were, ' See that you write a good dissertation.' He ad- 
vised me by all means to go to Greece, unless I were 
likely to have an opportunity to come over again soon. 
I don't know that I have not made a blunder in not fol- 
lowing him to Halle." 

They never met again. 

In the midst of his studies, Arthur still found 
occasions for working on theological questions. 
"Perhaps I have missed my calling," he writes; 
"I ought to have studied theology, I do so enjoy 
getting at the theological books in the reading- 
room and following out various questions. My pet 
line of work would probably be Biblical criticism 
and exegesis; but I suppose I had better stick to 
my Greek vases and verbs." In another place he 
saj^s, "I was always a Bible boy; my mother made 
me so." How he followed out and weighed for 
himself questions which the thoughts or words of 
others suggested, may appear in an extract from one 
of his letters, written at the close of this semester: 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 125 

"Yesterday, before our American service, I heard 
Schmeidler at the Jerusalemskirche, mainly out of cu- 
riosity, as I wanted to know what so radical a preacher 
would have to say on Easter. I enjoyed his sermon ex- 
ceedingly. He evidently puts the whole resurrection on 
a transcendental basis, without giving any particular at- 
tention to the fact of a bodily resurrection. I doubt how 
much his audience would read between the lines; and if 
they did n't, there were many good suggestions in his 
sermon. I was able to see farther, however, and as 1 
say, enjoyed it exceedingly as an exhibition of what a 
man in his position will do. But I fear that his theory 
would rather have tumbled in, if he had looked the fact 
of an empty tomb square in the face, which he carefully 
avoided doing. To-day, I am going to hear his colleague, 
Von Soden, who is n't quite as radical." 

Again, in an earlier letter, he says: — 

" In 's lecture list I see one sermon on the ' Great 

Evidential Miracle.' I suppose he will preach on the 
resurrection of Jesus ; but it seems to me that even this, 
itself, rests for its evidence on another, the conversion of 
Paul. It is conceivable (of course I don't mean that I 
believe it) that the disciples, out of self-interest, might 
have invented the story of the resurrection ; but in Paul 
we see a man who must have been conversant with the 
events in Jerusalem, a man who from a worldly stand- 
point had everything to lose by becoming a Christian, 
suddenly turning about and preaching the faith he once 
persecuted. There is no conceivable explanation of this 
that will bear examination, except that which he gives 
himself, and which Luke gives in the Acts. If the res- 



126 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

urrection was an invention of the disciples, it is incon- 
ceivable that Paul should have turned about and preached 
it. The conversion of Paul is the evidence of the truth 
of the resurrection itself, it seems to me ; and if the res- 
urrection be true, then the rest is true also." 

Arthur saw Prince Bismarck as he began his 
memorable journey to Friedrichsruh. "I was in 
Wilhelmstrasse," he writes, u where the excite- 
ment was intense as he drove by. Thousands had 
gathered along the route to see him, and cheered 
and ran after him as he rode by." But occasions 
of more interest to him, because they concerned 
those whom he loved as friends, were the marriage 
of Prediger Loewen, of the mission, in the Beth- 
lehemskirche (Hohmische), when Pastor Knak 
preached from Buth i. 16, 17, and the last service 
in Berlin of Prediger Schwabedissen, at the Heili- 
gegeistkirche, on the next day. At the close of 
the latter service, with the mission preachers, he 
went to supper with the newly wedded pair, to 
whom in a few days he gave a last farewell as the 
young preacher departed to his post of service at a 
distant station. 

With the exception of a single course, those of 
the summer semester of 1890 were given to archae- 
ology. They were: — 

1. Griechische Kunstmythologie im Koniglichen 
Museum, Prof. Ernst Curtius. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 127 

2. Grundzi'ige der Archaologie, Prof. Reinhard 
Kekule. 

3. Die Alterthiimer der Akropolis von Athen, 
Prof. Ernst Curtius. 

4. Leidensgeschichte Jesu, Prof. Dr. Bernhard 
Weiss. 

5. Entwickelung der attisch Vasenmalerei, Dr. 
Botho Graef. 

6. Archiiologische Ubungen, Dr. Botho Graef. 

In the lectures of Professor Weiss, Arthur in- 
dulged himself in hearing that celebrated theolo- 
gist, and he often expressed a regret that time had 
not given him opportunities for other courses in 
theological directions. His daily life during this 
semester differed little, if at all, from that which 
he had passed in former years. His dissertation 
was completed in June,, and there were indications 
which assured him of its success. 

His letters at this time contain much that breathes 
of confidence in his work. Seldom did he express 
a fear as to the result ; but he often dwelt upon the 
uncertainties which awaited him on his return to 
America. In the career which he had marked out, 
I think he had allowed a season of patient work, 
perhaps of temporary disappointment, looking for- 
ward to later years for the reward which time 
bestows upon the faithful laborer. I think de- 



128 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

spondency came to Mm only in those moments of 
weariness which come to all; and he soon recovered 
from it, with a humorous thought or an hour's rec- 
reation. "I must keep as warm as I can over the 
poor little bonfire of a distant hope," he once wrote, 
after a season of misgiving over the future. 

Early in this semester, the arrival at Berlin of 
his friend, Demetrius Kalopothakes, an original 
member of the Classical Club and his college chum 
at Cambridge, gave him that pleasure which comes 
through association with those with whom our tastes 
and habits are in accord, and whose presence recalls 
the memories of past and happy days. During the 
remainder of Arthur's life in Berlin, the compan- 
ionship of the Harvard boys, the Greek and the 
American, was close and pleasant to each. Visits 
to Berlin during the summer of parties of Maiden 
friends and neighbors broke the even tenor of his 
studious days, and were often recalled by Arthur as 
among the pleasant incidents of his foreign life. 

At the close of the semester he writes, "I am 
going to have a good rest;" and he found that 
which he sought in the little village of Neu- 
Babelsberg, in the Havelland, where, as he wrote, 
were "fresh air and musquitoes." 

" I am," he writes, " well pleased with this place. It 
is a village of summer residences near a pond, with a 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 129 

good deal of woodland. I live at the station, which is 
a Little apart from the main village. .Just beyond the 
house is a piece of pine woods, and there are groves on 
the other side of the railroad. The weather is so mild 
that I sit out of doors most of the time. 1 brought my 
steamer-chair, and am wearing my flannel shirt for the 
first time since I left the ship. The food is simple and 
;rood, and there is a plenty of it. It is a good place to 
reel and to read for my examination." 

Here, in addition to rest and leisure for reading, 
he found opportunities for those long walks in the 
roads ami open country in which he delighted. "I 
spent most of the time out of doors," is a frequent 
entry in his diary; and he varies his days by walks 
to the Jagdschloss Stern and the Griebnitzsee or 
the Pfaueninsel. On Sundays he goes to church in 
the weavers' village of Nowawes, where one "hears 
the clicking of the hand-looms in the houses as he 
goes along the street," or at Klein-Gdienicke; and 
again on a week day, he takes a walk to Babelsberg 
through the woods. 

On his return to Berlin, refreshed by a month's 
rest and exercise in the fields and groves, he pre- 
pared for a season of close and busy work. 

Of the fourteen hours given weekly to the lecture- 
rooms, in the seventh and last semester at Berlin, 
ton were devoted to archceological subjects and four 
to Greek history under Professor Kohler. The lat- 
9 



130 AETHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

ter subject was probably chosen with reference to its 
bearing upon his approaching examination, for which 
he was now to prepare. The courses, of which the 
fourth was a priat issime, were as follows: — 

1. Griechische Geschichte bis zur Schlacht bei 
Mantinea, Prof. Ulrich Kohler. 

2. Altere griechische Plastik, Dr. Botho Graef. 

3. Archaologische Ubungen, Dr. Botho Graef. 

4. Epigraphische Ubungen, Prof. Adolf Kirchhoff. 

5. Geschichte der griechischen Kunst, von den 
Perserkriegen an, mit Benutzung des Koniglichen 
Museums, Prof. Adolf Furtwangler. 

Although these courses, in the matter of time 
involved, were such as the average student might 
undertake for his full work, Arthur considered them 
as an agreeable means of relaxation in the midst 
of the severer study by which he was preparing for 
his final examination; and he still found time for 
the good which he could do at the mission and the 
church. At the meetings of the Young Men's 
League he was always present, sometimes as a 
leader, always taking an active part; and in No- 
vember he was chosen a member of the committee 
of the American church, in which he worked with 
devotion and zeal until his final departure from 
Berlin. Now hospitiering upon a popular lecturer, 
now calling upon friends or a favorite instructor, 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 131 

or walking out to the Thiergarten when the weather 
was line, he broke the hours of study by others of 
rational and temperate enjoyment, and filled the 
days to the full in the healthful exercise of the 
duties and higher pleasures of life. 

He writes of a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner, 
which Frau Liidde gave to her American boarders, 
that seemed to him more homelike than a public 
dinner, " where one has to sit in a big hall." They 
had "turkey of course, and no real cranberries, as 
a Xew England table would have, but Prelsselbee- 
>■■ //. the German substitute. After dinner, the 
time was spent in singing." We remembered a 
few months ago, when the old-time feast-day came 
and our darkened home saw no change in our daily 
life, when thankfulness seemed smothered by sor- 
row, and tears fell silently from wearied eyes, that 
he wrote in the hopefulness and security of life: 
" Another Thanksgiving I shall be in America." 

Soon after the Thanksgiving, he writes of a 
YVinckelmanns-Fest, held by the Anomia, — a so- 
ciety of archaeological men of which he was a mem- 
ber, and which, I think, had its origin among the 
students of Professor Robert's privatissime. An 
illustrated paper prepared for the occasion, a copy 
of which is now before me, is an interesting speci- 
men of student wit and ingenuity. He saj-s: — 



132 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

" Last Monday night I went to the Winckelmann cele- 
bration of the archaeological boys. Winckelmann was 
the father of scientific archaeology, and the Archaeo- 
logical Society celebrates his birthday annually. The 
boys have followed the example, but held their meeting 
a night earlier so that some of the older men could at- 
tend both. It was, of course, a drinking affair in a mild 
way (I use ' mild ' from a German standpoint) ; and the 
boys thought it was very good of me to go, seeing that 
I had different ideas on that point. I drank soda-lem- 
onade. The archaeological 'grinds' were rich, and two 
of the boys got up a very amusing comic picture-paper 
by a copying process. I got home at about one o'clock." 

With this semester there began an intensifying 
of a desire to forecast the coming life of opportuni- 
ties and work into which he seemed about to enter. 
There was now a hopeful thought-fulness of the fu- 
ture pervading his letters. Sometimes this thought- 
fulness became anxiety; but I think this feeling 
was never a morbid one, even in his most anxious 
moments. It was rather the energetic and impa- 
tient movement of an active mind seeking, with 
solicitude, the way to those things which were most 
desirable. At the close of the year he says: — 

" This is the last letter I shall write in the old year to 
you. The end of the year finds me less advanced than I 
had hoped at the beginning ; still, taking it all in all, I 
have much to be thankful for. I hope that a year from 
now I shall be settled in a good place in America." 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 133 

In the same letter he copied the following verse 

from a hymn of Christian Sachse in the "Evan- 

gelisches Gesangbueh: " — 

"Tragt ihn fein sanft ins Schlafgemach, 
Ilir Lichen, folgt ihm segnend nach, 
Nun gute Nacht, der Tag war scliwiil 
fan Erdgewiihlj 
Nun gute Nacht ! die Nacht ist kuhl." 1 

Little thought he or we that in a few months 
those words would be recalled when his hand was 
stilled and his tongue could speak no more. 

At length, on the third of January, the disserta- 
tion was deposited with the Dean of the University, 
and Professors Curtius and Kirchhoff were appointed 
to read it. In print, it makes an octavo of one 
hundred and five pages. It is entitled "De Ama- 
zonum Antiquissimis Figuris, " and is dedicated 
"Parentibus Dilectissimis nee non Aviae Caris- 
siinae Sacrum." Of it Arthur says in one of his 
letters : — 

"It attempts to collect all known representations of 
Amazons in Greek art up to the time of the close of the 

1 This verse 1ms heen somewhat freely rendered by a writer 
in the "Atlantic Monthly," September, 1872: — 
" Now of a lasting home possessed, 
He goes to seek a deeper rest. 
Good night ! the day was sultry here 

In toil and fear. 
Good night ! the night is cool and clear." 



134 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

so-called severe red-figured style of vases. Absolute 
completeness is impossible; bat several hundred monu- 
ments, chiefly vases, are brought together. It falls into 
four parts. The first describes the monuments which 
represent the fight of Herakles and the Amazons. At 
the close of this chapter an attempt is made to reconstruct 
the poetical authority followed by the artists, which leads 
to the conjecture that the poem used was a work of the 
seventh century, b. c, by Kinaithon of Lakedaimonia. 
The short second chapter is devoted to monuments re- 
lating to the story of Theseus and the Amazons, together 
with conjectures as to the forms of the story current at 
about the year 500 b. c. The third part collects the vases 
which show Amazons in other scenes ; and the short 
fourth part treats a few small Italo-Greek bronzes repre- 
senting Amazons. The book is spiced with polemics 
against the late Professor Luebbert of Bonn, as to the 
origin of a fragment of a poem relating to the Herakles 
legend, against the late Professor Welcker of Bonn, as to 
the Theseus legend, and Professor Lceschcke of Bonn, 
as to the origin of the equestrian type of Amazons on 
Attic vases." 

In another letter he writes: — 

"There is a great mass of literary references, — nearly 
four hundred foot-notes. In the. preparation, I have used 
Greek, Latin, French, German, English, Italian, Dutch, 
and modern Greek, — the last two a little." 

On the fourteenth of February the dissertation 
had passed the ordeal of the committee and the 
hands of the Faculty; and one at least was said to 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 135 

have informally pronounced it "a learned work." 
The examination was appointed with Professors Cur- 
tius, Kirchhoff, Kohler, and Zeller as examiners. 
In the letter that followed the telegram which he 
sent that day, Arthur says : — 

" This is the only thing I care enough about to write 
of. Until Thursday, one thought will be uppermost in 
my mind. Did we ever think that I would come to this? 
How little, as a school-boy, I thought that I would ever 
be a candidate for the highest literary degree in the most 
famous University in the world." 

The. examination, which, after the usage of Ber- 
lin, had been preceded by a formal call in evening 
dress upon each of the examiners, was begun at six 
o'clock on the evening of the nineteenth of Febru- 
ary, and continued about two hours. Of this, before 
he slept, he wrote to us : — 

" I have passed my examination to-night, as you will 
learn by the cable. I think, on the whole, it was not 
very severe. There were many things, particularly in 
Greek, on which I had spent much time, which were not 
called for at all. On the other hand, the lightning struck 
in several places where I did n't expect it, and I got a 
little rattled in a few cases. I kept my head excellently, 
however, and felt as if I were doing well. The process 
was not very uncomfortable. Each candidate goes to a 
little table at which he sits by himself ; and the profes- 
sor, who is examining him for the time being, comes and 
sits down beside him. When he gets through, he goes 



136 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

away and another comes. At the close the candidates 
leave the room, and finally are called in to hear the de- 
cision. My dissertation got the predicate, ' diligentise et 
eruditionis specimen laudabile,' — a praiseworthy speci- 
men of industry and learning." 

As I was leaving my office in Boston on the af- 
ternoon of that day, I received a message which he 
had penned in Berlin at a little before nine o'clock 
that evening. They were simple words enough 
which it contained, — "Yeroc Boston Passed," — 
but they conveyed to our hearts, as by a flash, the 
joy and the sense of thankfulness for mercies re- 
ceived which he felt who had sent them. Long 
before midnight in Berlin, a messenger stood at the 
door in Friedrichstrasse with our word of gratitude 
and love. 

During the next three weeks Arthur was busy 
with the reading and revision of the proof-sheets 
of his dissertation as it was passing through the 
press; and he notes with appreciation the helpful 
and friendly services of Dr. Richter, his former 
instructor, and Alonzo E. Taylor of New York, 
in this to him unwonted and sometimes tiresome 
occupation. "The vexation over the printing,'' 
he writes, " lasted up to the last minute; " but 
on the ninth of March, after working all day and 
into the evening with his friend Taylor, who re- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 137 

mained with hi in to the last, the final proof was 
read, and he had established his claim to the title 
and rank of a Doctor of Philosophy. 

On the thirteenth of March, he acted as the first 
disputant at the promotion of his fellow student of 
the Robert circle, Fernand Chavannes; and on the 
afternoon of the next day received his own degree. 
His opponents in the disputation were friends in 
whose companionship he had passed many pleasant 
hours. They were students Max Pohl and Wilhelm 
Busch and Dr. Ernst Bichter. Arthur's descrip- 
tion of his promotion is characteristic in its simple 
and half-playful style, with a total absence of any- 
thing like an expression of gratulation or pride. 
When he felt deepest he said the least. He writes: 

•• On Saturday I had my promotion. There was quite 
an audience, largely of American ladies, who wished to 
see the ceremony ; and it went off pretty well. After I 
had conquered my three adversaries, — ' gloriously,' as the 
dean said in his address, — the dean read the doctor-oath, 
binding me to religion, virtue, truth, etc., and never to 
receive the degree from another university ; and after I 
had sworn, he created me doctor, — 'Philosophise Doc- 
toris et Artium Liberalium MagistrL' " 

Among the ladies present were many of the pu- 
pils of the school of Mrs. Mary B. Willard, who 
could not but have felt a national pride in the suc- 
cess of the young American. 



138 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

There was now to be with Arthur a season of 
leave-takings and last things. His last lecture had 
already passed at the closing of Professor Furtwang- 
ler's course. The day after the promotion was the 
Sabbath, a day ever sacred to him; and he notes in 
his diary one more hearing of Prediger Stocker at 
the Stadtmissionssaal, and a sermon from Mark x. 
45, the last which he heard from his more than 
friend, Dr. Stuckenberg, who departed the next 
day for Italy. 

The .most of the succeeding week was spent in 
Dresden, where he was led by a desire to renew 
earlier impressions, and to see again, after several 
years of study and experience, those immortal works 
which on his first visit had filled him with de- 
light and admiration. A day at Wittenberg, in 
the Luther-land, completed the little journey, and 
he returned to Berlin on Saturday night. 

There is a pathos that he knew not of in the 
simple record of his daily life which he made in 
his diary in those closing days in the city where 
he had found so much warmth of sympathy and 
friendship, and where, by the purity of his life and 
the strength of his character, he left so honorable 
a memory. We see him visiting one by one the 
museums and galleries, once so strange but now so 
familiar; and he often lingers upon their thresh- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 139 

olds with thoughtful eyes turned backward ere he 
departs from the scenes where he had wrought so 
patiently with fervor and love. One by one he 
seeks the old friends for a parting word, and I know 
that often, when his lips smiled, there were tears 
in his heart. A few days before his death, when 
health was his and a long life seemed before him, 
he spoke of some w T ho were his companions in work, 
and expressed a w T ish that was a half regret. "I 
wish so much to see them," he said. "I will go 
sometime and find them." On being reminded 
that they would be scattered, and that it might be 
difficult to find them, he replied, "I would go over 
Germany from one end to the other to see them." 

Writing of the last Sunday but one in Berlin, 
he says : — 

" Yesterday morning I was at the American church as 
usual, and in the early evening I attended the service in 
the little German church of which I have before written 
(the Heiligegeistkirche). Dear little church, hallowed 
by the prayers of centuries, some of the dearest memo- 
ries of my German life centre around it and the friends 
who were connected with it." 

On the last Good Friday of his life he bade fare- 
well to the little church when his friend, Prediger 
Bieling, preached from John xix. 1G-18. After the 
service they walked together. I think they did 



140 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

not meet again. Of this parting, Prediger Bieling 
writes : — 

" Very clearly do I recall the last evening we were to- 
gether. It was on Good Friday, after the service at our 
little mission church, when we took a long walk. Speak- 
ing of his going home very soon, he said at parting, ' So 
far as we can see, humanly speaking, probably we shall 
not meet again.' (Mensclilich gesprochen werden wir uns 
wohl kaum noch wiedersehen.) I answered, 'Christians 
say always, We meet again (auf loiedersehri). If not here 
surely it will be above in heaven.' We clasped hands, 
as a token that we understood each other. Now he has 
gone in the true rest in Christ, and has found an eternal 
home. As his were ended, let us pray that God, the 
Lord, may end our wanderings." 

I find a sad pleasure in tracing, by his letters and 
diary, his movements during those last days. Those 
with whom he had been most intimate in the lec- 
ture-room and the archaeological circle had left Ber- 
lin at the close of the semester. On Easter, he 
attended his final service at the American church, 
where he had been so helpful in many ways ; and 
after making a farewell call upon Mrs. Stuckenberg, 
he took tea once more with Mr. James Watt of the 
British and Foreign Bible Society, at whose hospi- 
table board he had often been welcomed, and in 
whose friendship he had found pleasure and strength. 
The next day, as if unwilling to leave the scenes 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 141 

where he had found inspiration, he twice attended 
service at the Nicolaikirche, and bade farewell to 
German friends, a lawyer and his wife, who had 
welcomed him first of all to Berlin. 

The uext day, the last in Berlin, still faithful to 
his friends, he records his visits to Demetrius Ka- 
lopothakes and several German acquaintances, call- 
ing finally upon those in whose midst he had seen 
the most of German domestic life, the family of 
Frau Briske, whose kind offices he appreciated and 
remembered even at the last. Besides, he went 
once more to the museum for a last ramble through 
its well-known rooms and another loving look at the 
objects upon which he had spent so many hours 
of faithful w^ork. His friend Taylor w r as with 
him at his room last of all. 

Though this slight record may seem trivial and 
of little interest, these parting calls meant much 
to him; and I know how the gladsome thought of 
returning to America struggled with the regrets 
that filled his mind as he saw the old friends and 
the familiar places, where so much of happiness had 
been, receding from him. Through it all, and to 
the last days of his life, he held still the hope of 
seeing all again in the coming years. 

The next morning early, on the first of April, in 
a snow squall, he left Berlin; and at night, arriv- 



142 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

ing at Utrecht, the old life, the student life, was 
past, and he had left the German land forever. That 
night, before he slept, he wrote to us in America, 
and we can find a gentle tone of sadness and regret 
beneath the apparent cheerfulness of his words. 

"This morning I left Berlin on the same train by 
which father left when he bade me good-by on that Sep- 
tember morning now nearly four years ago. What a 
change since then ! What lay before me as an uncon- 
quered country is now behind me; and instead of the 
inexperienced 'fox' (Herr Fuchs, the German freshman), 
I am now Herr Doctor." 

With the highest degree of the first University of 
the world, Arthur had now attained the object 
which had been nearest his heart; and he found 
himself about to enter that active life within whose 
untried bounds he had traced with a firm hand a 
course of usefulness and honor. How opportuni- 
ties or accidents might have modified his life we 
know not. We cannot doubt that the firmness and 
honesty of his character, the rare alertness and 
clearness of his mind, the patient and thorough 
training which had been given both, and the sound 
scholarship in many directions which years of study 
had brought, would have given him an early and 
firm position among the scholars of America. He 
had imbibed the German spirit of thoroughness in 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 143 

attention to details; and he grouped those details 
in a broad and comprehensive manner, that gave 
him a wide mastery. " He was acquainted with 
many departments," wrote Professor Diels. 

As a teacher, lie would have drawn with consci- 
entious care, from widely separated sources, the 
inspiration which he was to impart; but above all, 
he would have been the Christian teacher, — a 
teacher of souls as well as of minds. As a special- 
ist, his fields would have been those of classic art 
and philology. To the latter, perhaps, he would 
have given his earliest work; as in the former he 
saw but present opportunities for sowing the seed, 
rather than tilling the growing crops for the plen- 
tiful harvests which he hoped sometime to see. But 
in the paths of art history and criticism he would 
have found, in time, his chiefest pleasure, perhaps 
bis most productive labors; and the firm grasp with 
which be held his materials, the plain straightfor- 
wardness with which he would have used them, and 
his love for substantial facts as opposed to fanciful 
theories would have given him strength and power. 

He was less a Latin than a Greek. In the works 
of the latter he saw an almost perfect grace, in which 
\\;i< unfolded the essence of all knowledge, which 
he loved less for itself than for its influence upon 
the manners, the literature, and the art of all time. 



144 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

He had no sympathy with that sordid utilitarianism 
which in its blindness knows only the material dol- 
lar as the result of its own mean efforts, and in the 
self-sufficiency of its ignorance feels nothing of that 
influence of the past which has made possible the 
civilization in which it lives. Wealth was less to 
him than the attainments of the intellect. He 
would have lived in a world of beauty, but it was 
essential that beauty should come to him clothed in 
truth and with the spirit of honor. 

Although he had passed into manhood, he re- 
tained many of the characteristics of his earlier 
years. Always unobtrusive, he never made a dis- 
play of himself in his manner or by his speech. Yet 
there was nothing awkward or constrained in either. 
A little retiring he may have been at times, for that 
is a scholarly trait ; but he passed easily, sometimes 
gracefully, into conversation, without forcing it into 
channels in which he might by his attainments 
take a leading part. But when the discourse turned 
upon matters which were of interest to him, the 
hearer was attracted by the ease with which he 
combined and expressed the results of his experi- 
ence and study. He naturally chose the rugged and 
strong older words of the language, which as he 
warmed in conversation he used in a nervous and 
sometimes forcible manner. His descriptions and 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 145 

explanations were always terse and often exhaust- 
ive, usually begun without preface, and never run- 
ning into the diminished threads of speech. 

In his lighter moments he was as full of fun 
and as fond of play as a boy. With a keen sense 
of the ludicrous, and a ready faculty of seeing the 
ridiculous, he was always finding some cause of 
mirth. Often, in the streets of London or Paris, 
have I heard his subdued but merry laughter as he 
found an incentive in the busy life around him. 
Of himself he says, writing in a lightsome vein to 
a friend who had rallied him upon his gravity : — 

"Now, I don't believe I am such a terribly sombre sort 
of a character as you seem to think. Over here I pass 
rather as an inveterate joker and story-teller; and I 
often make excruciating puns in German as well as in 
English. This is a side of one's character which only 
shows in daily life and does not come out in letters. A 
joke must be made on the spur of the moment, not in 
cold blood with pen and ink." 

He used to sa} r that the test of one's knowledge 
of a foreign language is the ability to understand 
its jokes, and that he knew he was doing well when 
he could join in a contest with German punsters. 
He said that he delighted in "old yarns;'' and I 
remember the glee with which he spoke of a Christ- 
mas party in Berlin, at which, as he wrote us, he 
10 



146 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

received "a string of chestnuts marked ' third cen- 
tury, b. c.y " and had his revenge in returning "a 
dear little wooden ass that bobbed his head." 

A distinguishing feature of his childhood re- 
mained with him until the last, — respect and ten- 
derness for the aged, tenderness and pity for the 
poor. With this were a deep-seated reverence, 
where reverence was due, which was never forced, 
and a constant interest in little children. Often 
in the last weeks of his European life, in which we 
were together in France, did the exercise of these 
traits recall the little boy I once knew. For the 
rest, only those who knew him best can ever know 
the depth and purity, the beauty and truth of his 
life. One who at home and abroad, as a student, 
enjoyed his closest friendship, has brought him back 
to us in a few heartfelt words: — 

"He was under all circumstances kind and sympa- 
thetic, always eager to forget self in helping others ; of 
true Christian character ; a conscientious student and 
thorough scholar. His name will long live in those cir- 
cles in which he moved, both in America and Germany ; 
and his life, though short, may well serve as a model for 
those who knew him." 

In his intercourse with his nearest friends, he 
exercised an influence that was silent and unobtru- 
sive. " Arthur was able," writes one, "to accom- 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 147 

plish more in his short life than most of us will in 
ours. His influence upon me will always live as 
an inspiration, and this must be true of all who 
knew him. If a friend could lay down his life for 
a friend, I believe that I had been able to make 
the sacrifice for him." 

And another, his friend and pastor in Berlin, Dr. 
Stuckenberg, recently writing of him, says : — 

" It is a joy to remember his firm and cheerful faith, 
his devotion to truth and right, and his deep interest in 
the welfare of his fellow-men and the cause of the Mas- 
ter. His conscientiousness was all the more striking 
because laxity of conscience has become so prevalent. 
There never was any doubt as to where he would be 
when a question of duty was involved. The sterling 
qualities which endeared him so greatly to us who knew 
hi in most intimately are also the ones we now remember 
with gratitude. Although his life was short, it was well 
worth while to live for the exercise of the noble qualities 
which adorned his soul and made his life beautiful." 

In turning his face homeward, Arthur, not with- 
out many regrets, gave up his cherished purpose of 
a visit to Greece before his return to America. Dur- 
ing the last semester, he had arranged to accompany 
his friend and teacher, Dr. Graef, and others of the 
University; but an unavoidable delay in the print- 
ing of the dissertation kept him in Berlin when the 
party went away. Later, he intended to join with 



148 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

a fellow student in a journey by the way of Venice; 
but their plans miscarried, and he was left to con- 
template the visit alone. His letters express hesi- 
tation in adopting the latter course, for he said he 
needed companionship in a strange country, with 
the spoken language and manners of which he had 
little or no acquaintance. At this point, he re- 
ceived a letter in which I proposed to meet him in 
Paris on his return from Athens, or earlier if by 
any means the journey into Greece should be aban- 
doned. "I was in such a condition,' 7 he wrote in 
reply, "that I took your letter as decisive. It 
seems as if Providence had used every means to 
keep me from going, as each time I had planned 
to go with any one, circumstances frustrated the 
plans." Of the purposes in connection with his 
preparation for active life, which he had in mind 
when be left America, this was the only one which 
was unfulfilled. "However, I shall go there some- 
time," he said, "when I can remain longer and 
perhaps enjoy it more." 

Arriving at Utrecht, the old life had passed. 
May God grant that it may be said of us, at the 
end, that our lives have been as complete in the 
fulfilment of duties as his. The tour through the 
quaint and art-filled towns of the Low Countries, 
upon which he had now entered, was one which 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 149 

gave him the highest pleasure. The opportunities 
of seeing the works of the Dutch and Flemish mas- 
ters in their homes, long desired, were eagerly em- 
braced; aud in the public galleries and churches, 
and in private collections, to which he was often 
welcomed, he added rich mental stores to those 
which he had already amassed. His diary and let- 
ters contain many pertinent and thoughtful notices 
of what he saw in those days, from which I have 
quoted elsewhere. 

"In Bruges,'' he writes, "I saw three little col- 
lections. One contained not a dozen works, but they 
were works which would almost make one break the 
second commandment." These were chiefly works 
of Hans Memling, to whom, as to Luini, he seems 
to have been attracted by his spiritual delicacy and 
tenderness of feeling. ' Speaking of Catholicism, he 
writes, "As an art critic I admire it; for I must 
confess that Protestantism has been rather hostile 
to a warm religious art." In another place he adds: 
" Somehow the great religious painters are gener- 
ally Catholics." In this he recognized the prevail- 
ing coldness of Protestant and modern art, which 
seldom own the earnest purpose and devotion of the 
works of the older Catholic masters. 

In the meantime he did not forget the pursuits 
in which he had been so long engaged; but in 



150 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

every museum and collection, with a copy of his 
dissertation in his pocket for annotation, and his 
note-hook in hand, he searched for undescribed vases 
and antiquities, or added fresher notices of familiar 
objects to his collection; as at Leyden, where, he 
says, "there are some Greek vases which fell into 
my dissertation, and as I had n't done much with 
them by reason of poor notices, I got accurate de- 
scriptions of several pictures." 

A characteristic incident which occurred at this 
time, and which illustrates the conscientiousness 
with which he worked and the pains with which he 
gathered his materials, is mentioned in one of his 
letters, which often take a diurnal form. He was 
at the Hague, when in the night he awoke and 
began to question the completeness of some notes 
which he had taken at Leyden. The next day, 
although in haste to proceed on his journey, he 
retraced his steps. "I saw my vase," he writes, 
"and then went back to the station; found my 
train gone, and so went to the Museum of Natural 
History to kill time. Then I started for a train, 
but on the way thought of another point relating 
to the vase of which I did n't feel sure, and went 
back to the Museum of Antiquities again." 

In the celebrated private collection of M. van 
Branteghem in Brussels, in addition to a vase which 



ARTHUR DELORATNE COREY. 151 

he especially wished to see, he found an unnoticed 
Amazon vase of importance, of which with the con- 
sent of the owner he secured a description for pub- 
lication. Much of this work, and of that which he 
afterwards did in Paris, was with reference to his 
dissertation, which, in his wish for something 
more complete, he proposed to translate into Eng- 
lish or German and publish with additions and 
illustrations. 

One of the most pleasant portions of the tour in 
Holland and Belgium was the few days that he 
spent at Antwerp, the interest of which was in- 
creased by a visit to Beveren-Waes, the home of 
his friend of the ship " Waesland, " the Burgo- 
master Van Raemdonck, who gave him a cordial 
Flemish welcome. This visit to Beveren was often 
mentioned among the occasions which he was wont 
to call the pleasant things of his life. Of a return 
to Antwerp as among the promised things of the 
future he had often spoken, and his anticipations 
w r ere happily realized. He seems to have system- 
atically sought out the places we visited together 
on our first landing in Europe; and in his letters 
he often dwells lovingly both upon his past and 
present experiences. "I have heard the sweet bell 
of St. Andre,' ' he writes. "I have enjoyed my 
visit here. Of course, much that was novel when 



152 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

I first came has no great attraction now; but the 
town has n't fallen so flat on me as did Cologne, 
when I went there the second time. The people 
interest me, especially the children. The young- 
sters are usually pretty, and dozens of them might 
have served as models for the little angels in the 
pictures of Rubens." On Sunday, "I went to a 
little church where I saw a strange thing, — people, 
chiefly women, singing a kind of liturgy, without 
a priest." 

From Antwerp to Ghent, and by Bruges and 
Brussels, he passed on to Paris, living less in the 
present than in the past, but ever filled with a most 
intense desire and an obedient will to gather all 
that could direct him in, or teach him of, the paths 
in which his life seemed turned. He arrived in 
Paris on the evening of the twenty-third of April. 
With characteristic industry, he spent most of the 
next day in archaeological work at the Louvre, and 
later, with a student's instincts, sought the old-book 
trays on the : parapets of the Seine. 

It was a dark and rainy evening when the Havre 
Express carried me into Paris; but the lights of 
the Tour Eiffel burned brightly in the south, and 
my boy was waiting for me. A little later, as 
seated side by side we were driven through the bril- 
liant and drizzly streets, I felt that nothing could 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 153 

separate us. All the past, with its anxieties and 
fears, was behind us; and after a few weeks of re- 
creation we would sail together to our home over a 
summer sea. 

As Arthur had preceded me in Paris by several 
days, he had prepared a place for me in a little 
hotel in the Rue de Richelieu, close by the death- 
place of Moliere and the National Library, and the 
arcades of the Palais Royal, where the English lan- 
guage was barred and no compatriot came to vex 
us. He always preferred such houses to the more 
pretentious and larger hotels; because, as he said, 
foreign manners were not improved by mixing, and 
he wished to have them in their purity. In this 
he showed that he understood the art of travelling, 
as well as when he wrote : — 

" The philosophy of travelling consists in taking what 
comes, and in not growling because everything is not just 
as it is in your own country. Every nation has its faults 
and its merits ; and the faults must be swallowed without 
complaint, if one wishes to get the benefit of the merits." 

It was midnight before we had finished our first 
talk, and much was left for the morrow. All his 
activities and thoughts turned toward the future, 
and it seemed as if he longed to pierce its untried 
mysteries for the story of his own life. That life 
was sketched in his mind in clear, firm lines. Cir- 



154 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

cumstances or opportunities might have filled them 
in with unexpected details ; but I think those lines, 
unblotted, would have run through a noble and use- 
ful career. 

He had changed little since our parting in Lon- 
don. There seemed to be at times an under-current 
of sadness in his looks and speech, as if he were 
looking backward upon the life which could come 
to him no more; and sometimes an eagerness, as he 
spoke of the coming life, as if he were impatient to 
take up the burden of joy or sorrow which the fu- 
ture held. But in his lighter moods, all the free- 
dom and carelessness of his boyhood returned with 
a clearness that brought back the memories of many 
happy hours. Seldom had I seen him more uncon- 
strained and joyous than when, casting aside all 
sober thoughts, we indulged in the old pleasant way 
in a round of jokes and cheerful repartee. His 
mock earnestness and comic seriousness might have 
imposed upon a stranger for a while, but a gleeful 
chuckle that he never could repress always came at 
last to betray him. 

If it were difficult to sketch the dream of the 
London days, how can I repeat that of those de- 
lightful weeks that were more shadowy still? How 
swiftly they flew, with all their changing round of 
art and life! I recall one day when with tireless 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 155 

feet we sought the old Paris, half-hidden by the 
new, when we stood beneath towers whose bells had 
sounded the tocsin on many a fearful night and 
whose walls had echoed with horrid revelry or cne 
wild roar of civil strife. In crooked street or dark 
passage, unknown to less eager feet, we saw with 
curious eyes many a relic of the past, the home of 
[sabeau de Baviere or of Queen Marguerite, or the 
house of Hugues Aubryot, tottering to its fall. At 
the close of the day in the retirement of a convent 
garden, hidden from the world, we stood uncovered 
by the grave of Lafayette, while the aged guide, 
with his little granddaughter by his side, pointed 
to an American nag that with its staff leaned on 
the wall, or told us of the dead of the Reign of 
Terror that slept around. And w r hen all was over, 
we sailed to Auteuil in the face of the setting sun, 
and came back in the cool evening along the river 
bank. 

Another day we made pilgrimages to Montmartre 
and St. Denis, names sacred to the memories of 
martyrs and kings, filling fully the round of the 
happy day; and at night, by La Cite and the tow- 
ers of Notre Dame, we sailed in the twilight to 
Charenton. 

Arthur was a good guide, for his former visits 
had made him at home in Paris, and his studies 



156 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

had given him skill in clothing anew the story of 
the past, as he found it in street and church or 
tower. At the Louvre, where most of all we loved 
to linger long hours, I saw the result of that which 
he had gathered by observation and thought. An 
ardor seldom surpassed, subdued and governed by 
quiet analysis and cool criticism, had formed a rare 
combination, which gave to his thoughts the warmth 
of color and the repose of marble. He was never 
effusive, seldom enthusiastic, in expression. His 
pleasure was shown in a repression of speech rather 
than in words; yet when the words were spoken, 
they showed how just was his recognition of the 
true and false, and how natural were the rules which 
he instinctively applied. It was the spirit which 
he sought. If that were weak or absent, the form 
had no lasting attraction. It might please for the 
moment by the force of color or the excellence of 
technique ; but lacking that which to him was the 
breath of life, the impression soon passed from his 
mind. It was this which made a day at the Salon 
one of entertainment rather than of enjoyment, in 
which he lamented that the skill and genius of 
recent French art, with all its brilliancy and power 
of color and composition, had little purpose and less 
spiritual life. 

In architecture, he still had most enjoyment in 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 157 

the freedom of the mediaeval Romanesque, which 
he found in Paris, apart from a few fragments of 
secular or conventual work, only in the ancient and 
transitional churches of St. Denis and St. Germain 
des Pres. The picturesque churches of St. Eustache 
and St. Etienne du Mont, where the Later Gothic 
begins to yield to the tendencies of the Renaissance, 
held a fascination for him in the struggle which he 
saw between a parting and a coming power; and 
he returned to them again and again. More recent 
art, aside from the associations of localities, was of 
value to him as it approached the freedom of the 
earlier periods and the conditions which he regarded 
as essentials in all good work. 

But two whole days remained of our stay in Paris, 
when on a pleasant May morning we rode by shady 
Meudon to Versailles. As we strolled along the 
bosky avenues of the great park, the blue sky and 
the long vistas, where between tall trees we looked 
over emerald lawns stretching far away into pearly 
distances, recalled the meads of the Thames and 
Hampton Court. In the neglected groves of Le 
Petit-Trianon, with wandering fancies, we peopled 
the scene with the bucolic life of the old time; and 
the silent hamlet became merry again as the wheels 
of the mill went round and the hapless queen and 
her pseudo-peasant court, in satins and silks, danced 



158 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

country dances on the green or played, as if life 
were all a summer fantasy, the trifling pastorals of 
Berquin. It was a blissful morning. The distrac- 
tions of the world were far away, and the overhang- 
ing sky and the greenery of Nature seemed to exist 
only for themselves and that dream of the past 
which had come to us. It was a scene such as 
Arthur, with his artistic sense and quiet nature, 
loved; and with fervor in his voice he connected it 
with those other days, the memories of which held 
a lasting place in his heart. All that we saw of 
art and splendor in that crowded day could not ob- 
scure the glory of that happy morning; but a brief 
record by him who loved its memories most, and a 
tiny bunch of delicate dried flowers are all that 
remain. 

The next moruing we devoted to the Louvre; and 
in the afternoon, under a sky as blue as that of 
Versailles, we sailed once more upon the Seine, 
going down to Sevres, that Arthur might see again 
a favorite vase. Returning, we spent another hour 
at the Louvre, and closed the day in a final book- 
hunt along the quais. 

The next day, betimes, we were at the Louvre, 
where we spent the few remaining hours- Looking 
once more upon the loveliest woman of all time, 
the Venus of Milo, and the marbles of ancient art, 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 159 

pausing again before those matchless figures of Re- 
naissance art, the women of Jean Goujon, who have 
looked upon Queen Marguerite and the dead Henry 
of Navarre, and heard the voice of Moliere, we 
passed along the familiar corridors, and lingered 
among the treasures of the Salon Carre, or sought, 
for a last and loving look, the favorites of the 
Grande Galerie. All too soon sped the morning 
hours, until Arthur asked me to return to the 
Salon Carre, where are gathered the choicest pieces 
of this great treasure house of art. Those he es- 
teemed the most were passed in quick review ; and 
at the last, with a look upon his face that was al- 
most sad in its intensity, he stood before the bright- 
est gem of Spanish art, and with a sigh turned 
away. His voice was tremulous as he said, "I 
shall see them all again." 

It was in the face of the Virgin of the Immacu- 
late Conception of Murillo that he bade farewell 
to the art of this world. We cannot say that his 
love for the beautiful and the true and the judg- 
ment that intensified his admiration or subdued it 
have been lost, or that the experience and thought 
which had come to him have passed away without 
fruitage. We do not know that, with a clearer 
vision, he does not walk in a fairer land where the 
genius and learning that have passed from our 



160 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

mortal state, impeded no more by human weak- 
nesses, create that which has no earthly peer and 
is worthy of the city golden and the great white 
throne. 

On the morrow, as we stood upon the deck of 
the steamship "La Bretagne," and the green hills 
of Normandy were growing gray in the distance, 
I saw the sad and eager look return to his face, 
and again the tremulous words came to his lips: 
"I shall see them again.'' I knew he was bearing 
in his heart a regret for the days that were past, 
and that his eyes saw not the receding coast-line, 
but were looking far beyond into a country which 
had given him of its best, for the friends whom he 
already wished to see. Yet, with all these regrets, 
he looked with eagerness and confidence to the 
home-coming, and the loving friends, and the life- 
work that were beyond the western sea. On the 
last Sunday in Paris, he had written to a friend : 

"It is my last Sunday on the continent of Europe; 
and as it draws to a close I feel a tinge of sadness, even 
though the journey I am about to take is to bring me 
home. The old life is nearly at an end, and what the 
new may bring I know not. Still, — 

" ' He who hath led will lead, 
All through the wilderness ; 
He who hath fed will feed ; 
He who hath blessed will bless.' " 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 1G1 

I remembei the ligbt in his eyes when, on the 
morning of the eighth day, the first pale streak of 
Long Island rose on the distant horizon. It was 
good to see America, even though it were but a strip 
of sand. All through the voyage, his interest was 
Less in that which had been than in that which was 
to come; and with all the frankness and confidence 
which had distinguished his boyhood, he let me 
into the inner circle of his plans and hopes. His 
hopes were bright, as becomes the hopes of youth; 
but they were not extravagant, and they might 
easily have been realized in the anticipated years. 
His plans were minute in particulars, but compre- 
hensive in depth and breadth; and they reached 
out to the end of a busy life. His thought seemed 
to have surveyed the conclusion of his career, as 
well as its beginning and course, and to have fore- 
cast the whole with a rare prudence and self- 
restraint. 

I cannot change into words the memories of the 
short twelve weeks, — too short to quench the thirst 
which his long absence had brought us, in which 
he entered once more into the old home life. To 
us, they have hardly the substance of reality, so 
fleeting were those days that intervened between 
the return and that peaceful morning when a golden 
mist hid him from our view. We remember, as 
11 



162 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

those who wake from sleep, so indistinct and far 
away it seems, how the first greetings were said, 
as he entered the home that had been lonely with- 
out him, and how he went, first of all, to the range 
of shelves where his books stood as his own hands 
had placed them. Then, as the days went on, the 
home became full of life again, as he brought back 
to it the merry spirit and fun of his boyhood. He 
used to sing the old college songs, "the louder the 
better," he said; and the neighbors became familiar 
with his favorite choral, "Ich bete an die Macht der 
Liebe," which he loved to whistle long and loud, 
with all the relish of a careless boy. He said he 
must be a boy a little while before he put on the 
dignity which must come to him. 

A little while he gave to the renewing of old 
associations in the seeking of friends, especially at 
Cambridge. Commencement and the annual meet- 
ing of the Phi Beta Kappa Chapter were occasions 
which he keenly enjoyed. Then, with the old long- 
ing which would not allow him altogether to cease 
from study, he began to translate and recast his 
treatise on "Synizesis." Upon this the last work 
of his life was done. At the end, it was found upon 
his table with several volumes of various critical 
editions of his favorite Homer; and near by lay the 
pen which his living hand had laid down to resume 
no more. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 1G3 

During these weeks he had much correspondence 
in relation to various positions, some one of which 
he hoped to assume in the fall. In this a peculiar 
quality of his character was manifested. On being 
requested by the president of a university in one of 
the Middle States to become a candidate, with good 
prospect of success, for a position in which, in ad- 
dition to lecturing in Greek and Latin courses, he 
would have taken charge of advanced students in 
French, he declined, although the place was one 
which seemed desirable to him. He said he knew 
he would be able to satisfy the authorities, but he 
did not feel that he could satisfy himself in teach- 
ing French. He would have been his own most 
re critic. Of a rare quality must that work 
have been which could satisfy the exactions of his 
clear perceptions. 

In the short time he remained in Maiden, with 
the prospect of an early departure to other fields, 
he hardly came within the influences of our local 
life; but he had begun to enter into the work of 
Christian help with much of the spirit which had 
animated him in Berlin. This was done without 
a feeling that he was doing aught beyond the com- 
monest things of life, so unobtrusive was he in his 
ways and so unmindful of any spiritual quality 
which he possessed. It was natural to him as 



164 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

breath or movement. He had no thought that he 
was making friends when he was influencing others 
in the most subtile ways. His influence was like 
the sunlight or the gentle rain falling silently upon 
the earth. With others he became interested in the 
Armenians, many of whom were in Maiden; and it 
appears that he gained their love, for they have 
given proof of their respect for his memory in many 
thoughtful ways. In the "Ararad," the organ of 
the Armenians in America, his death is noticed as 
that of a Philarmenian, who "knew much of the 
past and present history of the Armenians, and had 
a marked sympathy for them." 

On the evening of Wednesday, the twelfth of 
August, he wrote a few words in his diary, the last 
he ever penned. Never had he appeared more 
happy and full of life and health. He was running 
over with fun, but the cause of death had already 
come to him. The next morning he was not well; 
but although a physician was called during the day, 
it did not appear that the illness was serious. On 
Saturday I had arranged with representatives of a 
prominent University in New England for an early 
meeting with him, so confident was I of his speedy 
recovery, when a hasty message called me home. 
There all were in tears. The shadow which only 
the eternal morning shall remove, had already fallen. 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 165 

Arthur bad become aware of the dangerous con- 
dition in which lie lay; but there was no weakness 
in his voice nor fear in his mind when he asked 
of the physician at the close of the day, "Shall I 
live through the night?" It was the calm voice of 
one who asks of the ordinary things of life. That 
night at his request, following his constant habit 
from his earliest years of reading some portion of 
the Scriptures before retiring, I read for him the 
fifty-first Psalm, — the psalm to which of all others 
he most often returned. It was his earliest favor- 
ite; and there is in it a sense of confession and 
humility, which was most accordant with his char- 
acter. He often referred to it as his own, connecting 
it with the ninety-first, which he called the Mother 
Psalm, as belonging particularly to his mother. 

All through Sunday we tried to hope for life; but 
the watchful eyes of the physicians, — kinsmen, and 
friends, — could see little hope as the disease stealth- 
ily gathered him into its power. During the day he 
spoke to his mother of some things which, although 
long past, had troubled him; and at the end he said, 
with a cheerful look, "Now we will never speak of 
this again, forever." Then he gave her that pas- 
sage which has sustained us in many an hour of 
weakness: "Hold that fast which thou hast, that 
no man take thy crown." A little later, while 



166 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

talking with me, he spoke of some word or deed 
which I had long forgotten, and eagerly asked if I 
had truly forgiven him. So pure was his heart, 
and so void of offence was his clean spirit, that 
little things which would have passed the notice 
of many men troubled him to the extreme. When, 
willing to turn his mind, I spoke of the pleasant 
days we had passed together, his face lighted with 
a smile, and he said slowly, as if dwelling upon 
the memories of the past: " Heidelberg, Hampton 
Court, Versailles, " recalling those three bright 
days of which I have spoken. 

A consultation of three physicians on Sunday 
afternoon failed to give us any hope; and so the 
day, his last, passed away. In the evening some 
favorable symptoms were observed; but an increas- 
ing weakness of the heart opposed our hopes. Soon 
after midnight it became apparent that the end was 
near; and as his mortal strength failed, his mind 
seemed to gain scope and power. His thoughts 
were luminous and clear; and his words, with the 
old scholarly instinct and habit, were simple and 
well-chosen. We stood as those to whom heaven 
was opened, wondering at the height and depth and 
purity of the spirit which we were just beginning 
to know. It was in those last hours that we be- 
came truly acquainted with him whose life had 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 1G7 

been passed beside us. It was as if he had put off 
the body and were already clothed in the white 
robes of the kingdom of God. His thought seemed 
to take in at one sweep all his life and his friends. 
Messages of love to those at home and in Germany 
were frequent; and his Alma Mater, and the Amer- 
ican church in Berlin, and the Jewish Mission there 
were remembered by him with tender expressions. 
Speaking of the Classical Department at Cambridge, 
he added: "You know I loved that department." 
Turning to Mr. Harriman, who with his other faith- 
ful friend, the physician, had remained by his bed- 
side, he said: "Will you attend my funeral?" 
Then he spoke of a place of burial, and after a 
little conversation selected that beautiful spot on 
the hillside in Forest Dale, where his body now 
rests. All this was done with the quiet manner of 
one who prepares for an earthly voyage from which 
he shall return. At times he asked that some one 
would pray, and often prayed himself, not for life 
and health, but in the trusting spirit of one who 
waits only the accomplishment of the will of God. 
Once after a little pause he repeated in a clear voice 
the first verse of the beautiful poem of Montgomery : 

" ' Forever with the Lord ! ' — 
Amen, so let it be; 
Life from the dead is in that word, 
'Tis immortality." 



168 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Later, lie said in a dreamy way : — 

" The day is done ; its hours have run ; 

And Thou hast taken count of all, — 
The scanty triumphs grace hath won, 

The broken vow, the frequent fall. 
Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
gentle Jesus, be our Light ! " 

Then looking towards me he said, "That is from 
Faber, " as if to remind me of a long walk that we 
took in London to find a copy of Faber's Hymns, 
which was a favorite with him ever after. 

On seeing that the physician had exhausted all 
earthly means, he said with a quick, decided voice: 
"Now I will fight for my life, for my father and 
mother," and asked for water, — "from the old 
town pump, " he added. Of this he drank copi- 
ously. To our surprise there was a rapid change, 
and for a brief space hope came back to us. The 
disease was plainly abating; but the wearied heart 
was failing in its work and the tide returned. Then 
he submitted with calmness, saying only, "I am 
so tired; I have had a hard struggle." 

As exhaustion came, and his mind, for weariness, 
became less clear, the German came more readily 
to his lips, as if by use it had become habitual to 
him. Portions of the Scriptures and of poetry came 
often, that our unaccustomed ears could not catch. 
At times he seemed to be conversing with absent 



ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 169 

friends; and once, looking into my face as I sup- 
ported him, lie readied out to kiss me; and with 
the pleasant smile I knew so well, as I looked into 
his eyes, he spoke to me in the language of his 
other home across the sea. These were his last 
words to me. 

As the night waned and the day came on, I drew 
the curtain, that perchance his dying eyes might 
see once more the beauty of the earth he loved. It 
was in vain. The light came no more to those 
quiet, thoughtful eyes. With mortal sight he saw 
no more the earthly vision, but the soul already 
turned to the glories of a brighter world. So near 
were we to heaven that the spirit may have trod 
the celestial plains while the earthly form lay breath- 
ing and warm in our' arms. Slowly, with weak- 
ening pulse, he drifted from us, until like a child 
asleep, his head was gathered to his first resting- 
place, upon his mother's breast, and he gently 
breathed his life away. 

In the midst of our prosperity, when life seemed 
the fairest and our hopes the most secure, death 
took the best of all we had and left us bruised and 
bleeding. Not in this life but in the life to come 
it will be given us to know the mysteries of the 
mercies of God. 



Memorial ^erbfce* 

FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH, MALDEN. 

August 30, 1891. 



<&thtt of cSerime* 



1. Organ Voluntary. 

fa. Doxology. 

I b. Twenty-third Psalm. 

"1 c. Invocation. 

i d. " Nearer, my God, to thee." 

3. Scriptures. Psalm xci. ; John xiv. 1-4 ; 

Rev. iii. 7-13. 

4. Hymn. " Abide with me." 

5. Notices and Offerings. 

6. Solo. Mrs. F. H. Carlisle. 

7. Prayer. 

8. Hymn. " Lead, kindly Light." 

9. Sermon. 

10. Hymn. " Forever with the Lord ! " 

11. Benediction. 



SERMON. 

BY THE REV. NATHAN II. IIARRIMAN. 



ON Sunday noon Arthur supposed that he was 
soon to go, and called his mother for a part- 
ing interview. During this interview he quoted 
these words of Scripture : — 

Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown. — 
Rev. iii. 11. 

The word "crown," as a symbol, is of frequent 
occurrence in the word of God. That which awaits 
the redeemed of the Lord at the end of his pilgrim- 
age, — all the blessedness and glory and felicity of 
his heavenly inheritance, — is embraced in the sym- 
bolism of the "crown." The "crown of life," the 
"crown of righteousness," the "crown of glory," 
— these all are efforts to express in symbol "the 
things which God hath prepared for those that love 
Him." 

A young man of rare worth and promise has re- 
cently gone out from this community to lay hold of 
all that is implied in the promise of the "crown." 



174 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Before going, his soul laid hold of the force of the 
exhortation of the text, "Hold fast;" and he ut- 
tered the words of the text with interest. It is 
instructive to the living that in that hour which 
he supposed was his last, and in an interview with 
his dear mother which he supposed his last, he 
should feel that the Christian has something which 
he needs to hold fast, — that the blessedness be- 
yond, "the crown of life," depends upon our hold- 
ing on to present possessions. This text will always 
be to me Arthur's text, and will have for me peculiar 
significance. 

In a few brief hours after uttering these words, 
our friend "fell asleep' 7 in Jesus; went forth to 
receive his crown; and we are here assembled to- 
day to honor his memory. It is fitting that we 
should do so. His brief life was so full of high 
attainments and of rich promise, and his going 
hence was so triumphant, that the church he loved 
and the community in which he lived may well 
pause to lay upon his grave a memorial wreath, and 
to take into their hearts the lessons which his life 
and death so plainly teach. 

We do not speak in eulogy. It is a simple, un- 
adorned tale we tell of a serene life and a triumph- 
ant death; and we tell it to the glory of that grace 
which was so manifest that it has sweetened a little 
this too bitter cup. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 175 

"A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord 
directeth his steps " (Prov. xvi. 9). Seldom does 
the force of this deep truth come home to a church 
and community with sterner shock than to this 
church and this community in the untimely death 
of Arthur Corey. One of our city papers expressed 
the verdict of the community when it used these 
words: " The death of no young man within Mai- 
den's limits could have been of so deep concern to 
the city." 

What plans were interrupted, what fond hopes 
were blasted, in his sudden summons to "come up 
higher!" Surely, " God's ways are not our ways; 
neither are our thoughts His thoughts." Our 
thoughts looked forward to a brilliant career among 
men, a career for which nature and laborious study 
had well fitted him. In the bloom of youth, crowned 
with academic honors well-earned at home and 
abroad, with the doors of more than one seat of 
learning open to receive him as an educator of 
youth, with the heavens all aglow with the promise 
of spring-time, the summons came, suddenly, unex- 
pectedly, and he was ready. " Blessed are the 
dead that die in the Lord." Strong, well, happy, 
hopeful, expectant! and in less than one hundred 
hours he had passed out from among us, — gradu- 
ated to that higher university where he will find 



176 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

ample exercise for all liis expanding powers. To- 
day is Arthur's second Sabbath in Paradise. 

Never shall I forget the sudden look of myste- 
rious wonder which came into those earnest, beauti- 
ful eyes, when on Saturday afternoon he received 
the first intimation that he was dangerously ill. 
"Mother," said he, "am I really so sick?" In 
that one moment, I think, with preternatural swift- 
ness his mind took in the full sweep of hopes de- 
ferred and ambitions interrupted. For one brief 
second a look of sad surprise filled his face and 
shone out at his eyes; that was all. In that one 
instant was concentrated, I think, all of regret that 
his soul ever knew, for through all the painful 
hours that followed, until he "fell asleep," no note 
or whisper or suggestion of repining was heard to 
pass his lips. In his prayer to live, it was that he 
might be a comfort to his loved ones. I think that 
in that moment of surprise that he could really be 
dangerously ill his spirit found the Father, and 
from that brief conference he came forth satisfied; 
nay, I am not sure but that there was a sense of 
relief and even of restful joy, to leave the time of 
his going in the hands of One whose eye sweeps 
all the broad horizon of past and future. Who 
shall say that it was not so? 

Before speaking of his life and death, I will read 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 177 

an adaptation of verses by Dr. Faber, which was 
read at the funeral, and is expressive, in tender, 
loving words, of parental sorrow: — 

A CHILD'S DEATH.* 

Thou tonchest us lightly, O God, in our grief; 

But hew rough is Thy touch in our prosperous hours! 

All was bright, but Thou earnest, so dreadful and hrief, 

Like a thunderbolt falling in gardens of llowcrs. 

Our only one ! Father ! how glorious he was. 

With the soul looking out through his fountain-like eyes! 

Thou lovest Thy Sole-horn, and had we not cause 

The treasure Thou gavest us, Father, to prize ? 

But the lily-bed lies beaten down by the rain, 

And our darling is gone from the place where he grew; 

Our darling ! our fairest ! Oh, let us complain ; 

For all life is unroofed, and the tempests beat through. 

I murmur not, Father ! My will is with Thee ; 
I knew at the first that my darling was Thine; 
Hadst Thou taken him earlier, O Father ! — but see ! 
Thou hadst left him so long that I dreamed he was mine. 

1 I have taken great liberties with this beautiful poem; yet 
in no sense have I wholly robbed it of its original meaning. 
Change was necesssary to adapt it to the circumstances of our 
present need. The whole of verses 2, 6, and 10 have been omit- 
ted. The chief adaptations are in verses 3 (the second in copy), 
4, 7, and 11. The possessives arc the principal words changed, 
and that to adapt the lines. One line was changed, how- 
ever, with a view to improve the original, — the third line in 
verse 7. — X. II. II. 

12 



178 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Thou hast honored our child by the grace of Thy choice, 
Thou hast crowned him with glory, o'erwhelmed him with 

mirth , 
The heavenly choirs are enriched by his voice, 
While his parents, disconsolate, weep upon earth. 

Yet, oh for that voice which is thrilling through Heaven, 
• One moment our ears with its music to slake i 
Oh no ! not for worlds would we have him re-given , 
Yet we long to have back what we would not re-take. 

We grudge him and grudge him not, Father ! Thou knowest 

The foolish confusions of innocent sorrow ; 

It is thus in Thy husbandry, Saviour ! Thou sowest 

The grief of to-day for the grace of to-morrow. 

Go, go with thy God, with thy Saviour, dear child ! 
Thou art His, and thy sorrowing parents are His ; 
But to-day thy fond parents with grief are made wild, 
To think that their son is an angel in bliss ! 

Oh, forgive us, dear Saviour ! on Heaven's bright shore 
Should we still in our child find a separate joy ; 
While we live in the light of Thy face evermore, 
May we think Heaven brighter because of our boy ! 



I. HIS LIFE. 

Arthur Deloraine Corey, the only child of Delo- 
raine P. and Isabella H. Corey, of our own city, 
was born April 13, 1866, and died of peritonitis, 
Aug. 17, 1891, in the house where he was born 
twenty-five years and four months before. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 179 

If I shall recall some of his achievements, it will 
be but to emphasize the magnitude of our great 
loss. 

With brow bedecked with bright laurels won in 
academic halls, magnificently furnished for work 
aa an educator, panting for high achievement, which 
he undoubtedly would have realized, he paused for 
a few brief weeks upon the threshold of the world 
of his dreams, but did not enter therein. His 
Lord had other plans for him, — the gates of a 
larger life swung wide, and he passed into the 
glory. It was better so, but it took us all by sur- 
prise. Let us praise God that he was not taken 
by surprise, — he was fully ready. 

1. Intellectual. His course in your own public 
Bchoolfl was a brilliant one. He graduated at the 
head of his class in the High School, at the early 
age of fifteen years, and during his w r hole course 
there was never absent or tardy, and never received 
a demerit. His supremacy in his studies w T as un- 
grudgingly admitted by all his fellows. 

In Harvard University, in spite of two protracted 
illnesses that nearly destroyed two full years of 
study, he graduated in five years from the time of 
entering, receiving honors on his entrance exami- 
nation; second-year honors in several subjects; final 
honors in the classics, and Honorable Mention in 



180 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

four other subjects. When he graduated he stood 
second in the department of classics and sixth in 
the work of the entire class. His name also stands 
in the University catalogue as a winner of a Detur, 
and also of a first Bowdoin prize, — an honor highly 
coveted by ambitious students. 

That he early passed beyond the student stage 
in the study of his beloved classics, — the stage, I 
mean, of task- work, — aud entered what may be de- 
nominated the master's stage, — the stage of study 
and research for study's sake, — is evidenced by the 
fact that he was one of the most influential movers 
in the organizing of the successful Classical Club, 
composed of professors and a few choice spirits 
among the students ; he was also its first secretary. 

To this record in the regular course for the Bach- 
elor's degree, he added an equally good record in 
the Master's year, taking the degree of A. M. in 
1887, at the early age of twenty-one years. 

These achievements but whetted his appetite for 
deeper research, and he turned with longing heart 
toward the German universities. His desire was 
granted by loving parents who readily consented, 
for love's sake, to four years' separation from their 
boy. In the autumn of 1887, Arthur matriculated 
at the Royal Friedrich-Wilhelm University in 
Berlin. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 181 

For four years of separation his life was graciously 
spared, and his studies were eminently successful. 
In March of the present year he took the degree of 
Ph. D. in a dissertation in Latin, which has re- 
ceived the favorable comments of scholars at home 
and abroad. On the twenty-fifth of May he arrived 
home. But twelve brief weeks! How startling 
the change from all his plans and all the fond hopes 
of dear ones! 

Mystery it is, deepest shadow of mystery! but 
behind the mystery "standeth. God within the 
shadow, keeping watch above His own." And from 
that shadow sounds God's voice; "What I do thou 
knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 

Mystery! yes; and from our human view-point, 
blinded as we are with the fast-falling tears, an in- 
explicable and a harsh Providence: but from Faith's 
view-point, the sunrise mountain peaks of a blessed 
hope appear. The morning dawns, and the shadows 
flee away. Behind the glory-lighted peaks of dawn 
lies for us the near solution of the present mystery. 
It is well embraced in the beautiful verse which 
Arthur quoted that night as he lay in the gathering 
shadows : — 

" ' Forever with the Lord !' — 

Amen ! so let it be : 
Life from the dead is in that word, 

'T is immortality." 



182 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Two characteristics of Arthur's intellectual life 
impressed me strongly, — its honesty and its mod- 
esty. He lived a peaceful, studious life, retiring, 
unassuming, generous, self-forgetful, singularly con- 
scientious from earliest childhood. Devoted to truth, 
his friends and his hooks; distinguished as a scholar 
and a thinker, he was yet no pedant j no one was 
oppressed hy his wealth of learning, — his modesty 
and considerateness concealed it from those less 
favored. 

During his last weeks among us it was my good 
fortune to have more than one protracted conference 
with Arthur upon themes of interest to us both, — 
deep questions of Revelation. The remarkable 
alertness of his mind impressed me, but not more 
deeply than the absolute integrity of his intellectual 
processes. Quick to form a theory, he was no less 
quick to abandon it at the first appearance of con- 
tradictory fact. "Thus saith the Lord " outweighed 
with him the attractiveness of the choicest theory, 
and that instantly. 

His genuine modesty was impressed upon me in 
all my intercourse with him. It is significant that 
so remarkable an achievement as his elaborate and 
scholarly " Dissertatio," — to which reference has 
been made, — on which he received his degree at 
Berlin, was not known to me until after his death. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 183 

In the same line also is the fact that he put no 
value on his Bowdoin Prize essay. Somehow, this 
has been lost or mislaid in the library at Harvard; 
and it is characteristic of the man, that he was glad 
that it was lost, so altogether lacking in merit did 
it seem to him as he looked back upon it. So dili- 
gent a student was he, and so high were the ideals 
which he pursued, that it is probable that any 
achievement, however lofty, would to him very 
quickly seem unworthy. It was the sign of a rap- 
idly expanding intellect. 

2. Spiritual. I have spoken of his intellectual 
achievements; it is necessary that I also recall some- 
thing of the richness of his spiritual life. 

At an early age, so early that his parents cannot 
fix the time with exactness, Arthur recognized his 
need of a Saviour and the claims of God upon him, 
and he became a Christian. He did not join the 
church, however, till near his twentieth year. At 
that time he was baptized and became a member of 
this church. 

While in Harvard, he was an active and inter- 
ested member of the society of Christian Brethren, 
the society which, during his residence in Cambridge, 
was merged or changed into the present Young 
Men's Christian Association in the University. 

On going abroad he at once became an active and 



184 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

valued worker in the American church in Berlin, 
and a member of the students' section of the Young 
Men's Christian Association, — a body which is 
doing so much for Christ and morality in that 
great city. During his stay in Berlin he also be- 
came an interested worker in a mission among the 
Jews, and his interest in this remarkable people 
continued to the end. One of his latest remem- 
brances was a gift to this Berlin Mission. 

Since his return he has become actively engaged 
in Christian work, — taking part in our meetings, 
teaching in the Sunday school; and when the Ar- 
menian department was organized he was made 
assistant superintendent and threw himself into the 
work with characteristic zeal. His interest in the 
young people's meetings was shown in the fact that 
he led the Sunday evening meeting just one week 
before his last Sabbath among us. 

II. HIS DEATH. 

I have spoken thus far of the life of our dear 
friend who has gone. If his life has in it that 
which is of value to us as a church and people, 
surely the death he died is a rich legacy. 

Sorrow is sacred, far too sacred for the vulgar 
gaze of the merely curious. But because of your 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 185 

love for Arthur, and for the sake of the rich les- 
sons contained in his going hence, I am permitted 
to lift the veil and admit a sympathetic public to 
that sacred chamber where our friend met the death 
angel, looked him in the face unterrified, took his 
hand and went forth triumphantly with him to meet 
his God. It was a scene never to be forgotten. 

1. Incidents. Arthur was born among you. He 
grew up among you. Later 3-ears of foreign travel 
and study removed him from you for a season, and 
earlier devotion to his books made him partially a 
stranger to some. But there are before me many 
who knew him well. Your own boys played and 
studied with him. Some of them were on the other 
shore to greet him that morning when he first set 
foot in the streets of the celestial city. Others of 
his companions and friends are here still, and mourn 
their loss and ours. You thought you knew him 
well. Yet to those who knew him best, those last 
hours were a revelation of heights and depths before 
unsuspected. "It seems so hard that he must be 
taken from us in order that we might become really 
acquainted with him," was the plaintive cry wrung 
from the agonized hearts of his dear ones. Yet it 
is ever so. There is vastly more in every man than 
comes to the surface in the ordinary experiences of 
life. It takes the deeper experiences of life to re- 



186 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

veal what really is in the soul of a man. Immeas- 
urably greater than his highest achievements is the 
soul of every man; and Arthur might have lived 
the full period of life and there would still be un- 
explored regions lying beyond the ken of all but 
God himself. I count it one of the privileges of 
my life to have known him even for a brief period, 
and to have been admitted to that sacred chamber 
of blessed revelations, when his dearest friends on 
earth saw him transfigured before them, and bowed 
in astonishment in the presence of the revelation. 

Arthur was by far the calmest person in the room 
during those hours from twelve to four o'clock that 
Monday morning, before the delirium of exhaustion 
came upon him and bore him beyond our reach. 
During those sacred hours, with clear mind and 
peaceful heart, he talked freely of going, remem- 
bered one by one the friends and causes he loved, 
sending messages and remembrances to his friends 
and substantial gifts to different objects. His love 
and thoughtfulness omitted nothing. We stood 
upon the very borders, and I am sure that we shall 
always be better for having been there. 

It was a little group, — father, mother, grand- 
mother, the physician, and the pastor. He talked 
much. Now it was messages of love to friends at 
home and in Germany; now it was words of com- 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 187 

fort and counsel to his parents; now it was gifts 
to special objects or particular persons among his 
companions; now it was directions respecting his 
funeral and burial; now it was prayer, he himself 
praying many times, and always with resignation, — 
if he prayed to get well, it was that he might be a 
comfort and joy to his dear parents. 

"Tell , " said he, "to go to church as she 

used to; " and he turned to me and explained that 
he was speaking of a dear friend who had gotten 
out of the habit of attending church. 

Of another friend he spoke at this time to his 
mother, and said: "Tell him that I want him to 
get back again into the old ways," — and he ex- 
plained that it was one of his old companions, a 
good fellow, but he had wandered off into scepti- 
cism and was very far from being happy. Of this 
one and another he said: "Tell them to follow my 
steps so far as I have followed the steps of Jesus." 
The dying have privileges of speech, and their 
ni' --ages are very sacred. 

Remembering his interest in the Armenians, I 
said: "Arthur, have you any message to the Ar- 
menians?" "Yes, tell them to love Jesus," said 
lie promptly. It is a pleasure to record that his 
interest in them was not unappreciated by them. 
On the day of the funeral they came to the house 



188 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

in a body, bringing beautiful flowers; and around 
the open casket they offered prayer in their own 
tongue, thanking God, as the interpreter said, that 
they had known Arthur and been made better men 
by that acquaintance, and asking that grace might 
be given the parents to bear up under the great 
sorrow. 

Arthur quoted much during those hours from the 
blessed Word, from hymns and other writings, some 
in German. "In my Father's house are many man- 
sions," one quoted; and he caught up the blessed 
truth, Jesus' rich legacy to His beloved, and quoted 
it to the end of the passage. 

During a pause in his sufferings he offered a fer- 
vent prayer. Then he turned to his mother and 
said: "You pray; " and one after another, his dear 
ones offered prayer at his request. "Pray some 
more, some one," he said; and the pastor prayed. 
With eyes closed he rested a moment, then whis- 
pered, "You pray, too, doctor," and in the hush 
that was upon us, a Christian physician knelt b}>- 
the bedside of his patient and poured out his heart 
in prayer for help from the Great Physician, — a 
faithful man, who followed his patient down to the 
very borders of the other world, and did not leave 
him till he lay at rest upon his mother's arm, be- 
yond the reach of human aid or the sensible touch 
of human love. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 189 

I have spoken of his gifts to different objects, 
including the Jewish mission in Berlin. Once, as 
I held his hand, he looked up into my face with 
interested gaze, then turning to his mother he asked 
eagerly; "Did I earn that fifty dollars, mother? I 
guess I did, didn't I?" and when the loving voice 
.said softly, "Yes, my boy," he quickly said, "I 
want it given to the Good Will Homes; " and fifty 
dollars has gone to the Good Will Homes, in mem- 
ory of a young man who had every opportunity in 
life, to aid boys who have but few opportunities. 

While he lingered awhile by the shores of con- 
sciousness, his boat already unmoored, yet touching 
the shore now and then as it tossed there for a little 
before putting out to sea, the first verse of the 
ninety -first Psalm was quoted, — a favorite psalm of 
Arthur's, — "He that dwelleth in the secret place 
of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of 
the Almighty." With unexpected but deeply grati- 
fying quickness he broke in, "I am going for 
that shadow." And then, to make certain that he 
was yet within our reach, — for his mind was con- 
stant^- wandering now, — the voice of his dear 
mother took up the precious word: "I will say of 
the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, 
in Him will I — " and the voice she loved answered 
back to her own the closing word of the verse, 



190 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

" trust. " This was probably Arthur's last conscious 
word, — " trust. " Praise God! he knew its mean- 
ing, and was at that moment testing its value: "My 
God, in Him will I trust! " 

A little incident occurred that I may mention in 
connection with these glimpses of Arthur's last 
hours, as it illustrates his firm grasp upon Evan- 
gelical truth, and shows that he placed his trust 
in the merits of Christ alone. In the many words 
of endearment that were uttered by burdened hearts, 
his goodness was spoken of in words which he 
seemed to interpret as resting on a false theory of 
goodness; for he quickly interrupted with the 
words: "No, not without sin; I am a sinner, but 
I 'm trusting in Jesus." It was a clear statement 
of his creed, and uttered at a time and under cir- 
cumstances that gave it great weight. Not without 
sin, but trusting in Jesus! sure Foundation! 

2. Lessons. In the light of this scene to which 
I have introduced you, how vividly stand out before 
us certain rich lessons ! — among them the following : 

a. The possibility of so settling in the present 
the great questions of the future, that in the death 
hour the soul knows its bearings. 

b. The need, the pressing, urgent, imperative 
need, of settling these questions now, of being al- 
ways ready for the summons to close the books and 
render in the life's account. 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 191 

How these lessons stand out in every word and 
syllable of that hastily written note of his mother, 
which came to me in my study that Saturday noon! 

It read as follows : — 

" Saturday morning. 
"Mr. Harriman, — I believe in prayer. Will you 
pray that, if it is for the best, our dear son's life may be 
Bpared; but if it is otherwise ordered, that the strength 
may be given us to bear the trial and be submissive to 
our Father's will?" 

To the note was this postcript: " Is n't it a bless- 
ing that we know that he is prepared?" 

Men and women before me to-day, friends and 
neighbors of the deceased, and of the sorrowing 
family: this cry, wrung as it was from the heart 
of an anxious but trusting mother, has in it for us 
a message of divine wisdom, "Be ye also ready." 
God help us each to heed it. What a shock the note 
brought to me! It was the first intimation I had 
received that he was ill. Only the evening before 
I had looked for him in his accustomed place in 
the prayer meeting, and had missed him, — for his 
presence in the meeting had come to be a matter 
of satisfaction to me. I had noticed and felt his 
absence, but had not thought of danger. "Pray, 
if it is for the best, that our dear son's life may be 
spared," shocked and stunned me. I could not be- 
lieve it, I would not believe it, I did not believe it 



192 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

till the very end; and the suddenness of it has dazed 
us all. May its reality, and his readiness to go, 
make us wise in time, that we be also ready! 

c. Another and a very sweet lesson of this sad 
time is the vivid illustration it has given us of the 
sustaining grace of our God. " Abounding grace!" 
Not a promise broken! "That the grace may be 
given us to bear the trial and be submissive to our 
Father's will! " Ah, yes. So we prayed, and our 
prayers were not unanswered. The dear young 
man leaned confidently upon that grace, and it did 
not fail him. It enabled him to forget his ambi- 
tions; to forget his cherished hopes; to forget his 
sufferings; to forget himself altogether, and to 
think only of those who were to be left broken- 
hearted by reason of his going. 

It was the same abounding grace which lent and 
is still lending supernatural strength and fortitude 
to hearts ready to break with disappointment and 
sorrow. "I know it is right; but oh, it is so 
hard!" How often the over-burdened heart found 
utterance in these words! Yet no bitterness, no 
questioning of the sympathy and kindness of the 
Father. The cloud hung darkling; but God's rich 
grace was not absent nor inadequate. 

d. Another lesson comes to us in the fragrance 
of the human sympathy which a sorrow like this 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 193 

calls out. It is the fragrance of crushed flowers, 
more welcome than the fragrance of the wreaths 
they sent in such rich profusion, — fragrant also to 
God, we may be sine. 

Words are powerless to touch the heart of a grief 
like this; but kind, loving, wise Christian words of 
sympathy are as balm to the wound. From many 
letters breathing the fragrance of sympathy, most 
of which were full of unutterable pity and love, 
and many of them the utterances of hearts that had 
themselves known deep sorrow, I am permitted to 
quote a few passages of special interest for the wis- 
dom that they contain, as well as for the love they 
breathe. 

One almost a stranger writes thus wisely of the 
mystery of this great sorrow: — 

" There is only one comfort in the face of such an 
overwhelming sorrow as this, and that you have, — the 
belief that the heavenly life is not so dissevered from 
this as to bring to naught all the hopes and aspirations 
and bright prospects that death seems so rudely to shat- 
ter. We may firmly believe that the fullest and best 
preparation of life here is the fullest and best prepara- 
tion for life there." 

Another, who himself has recently passed through 
a great bereavement, writes : — 

" The fact that you have bestowed upon Arthur so 
much care and attention, and deprived yourselves of so 
13 



194 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

much of his dear young life to give him such a fit for 
the duties of life, ought to enhance the richness of your 
comfort, because your privations have made his charac- 
ter all the broader and richer, and, I believe, more lovely 
in his new sphere. He enters his new life better fitted 
to reciprocate your loving attention by the sacrifices you 
made for him." 

From another, a friend who still sits within the 
shadow of a similar grief, come these comforting 
words : — 

" You and your family are constantly in our thoughts 
this morning. Your dear boy has been taken at just 
the time when his life was fullest of promise and he had 
everything to live for. What great hopes in your hearts 
have been quenched ! But God will help you, and He 
only can do it. We found great comfort in hearing the 
voice of the Master say, ' What I do, thou knowest not 
now; but thou shalt know hereafter.' For the present, 
you can only live in the faith, sure and strong, that 
there is some blessed explanation of such an inscrutable 
Providence." 

From still another letter I am permitted to quote 
the following words of lofty Christian counsel, — 
words written by an appreciative friend: — 

" Death never seems more mysterious and inexplica- 
ble from the side of earth, than when it cuts off the 
young man on the threshold of life, with such large and 
adequate preparation behind him, and such brilliant 
promise before him. How often I have thought of the 
delight you would now feel in the companionship re- 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 195 

newed after these years of preparation, and how fully 
you were suited to enjoy such companionship with him. 
And only a taste from that cup, and it falls from your 
lips ! Yet out of the same thought comes another, when 
I look at death from the other side. Not only does the 
unseen world become more full of life and activity and 
ennobling service, when the young man passes thither, 
but the parallel runs closer now. I think of him as 
across the sea, still enlarging scope and power, and of 
vi ui as waiting, as you waited these last few years, cheered 
by the thought of the meeting again, with the new dis- 
covery of growth and the father's delight in his son's 
new progress. I am thankful that Christ's great light 
has dawned on death and made such hope a reality, and 
that you have known its brightness." 

One of the young people writes, expressing I am 
sure the sentiments of many more: — 

" Though I have known your son only since his return 
home, I have known him long enough to respect and 
admire him in all his strength of character. I am glad 
to have known him; I know my life will be better for 
his influence." 

I think I cannot do better in closing these quo- 
tations than to read a sweet verse from one of the 
letters : — 

" The clouds hang heavy round my way ; 
I cannot see : 
But through the darkness I helieve 

God leadeth me. 
*T is sweet to keep my hand in His, 

When all is dim : 

To close my weary, aching eyes, 

And follow Him." 



196 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 



CONCLUSION. 

In conclusion, what a comprehensive lesson of 
the "certainties of religion ,; is emphasized in a 
life and death like this which we have been con- 
sidering to-day ! Friends, neighbors, fellow-citizens, 
we do know some things, many things, blessed 
things. There are realities touching the unseen 
world which we may know here and now, — reali- 
ties which will survive the shock of the death hour. 
How incalculably important that we know them, 
that we lay hold of them, that we hold them fast! 
I am sure that Arthur felt the importance of this 
when he quoted the words of our text, "Hold that 
fast which thou hast." To him, if I am not mis- 
taken, there was present a vision of the danger lest 
we should let slip the certainties in our struggle 
to fathom the mysteries. To him the text meant, 
"Hold fast " that which we may all know, — mercy 
offered and accepted through the merits of a mighty 
Redeemer; hold fast to loyalty and service and 
love and gratitude, — yea, hold fast, above all, to 
the Saviour Himself. I am quite certain that, could 
Arthur speak to his young friends to-day, one of 
the things that he would urge upon us would be 
to cultivate heart piety, personal affection to a per- 



MEMORIAL SERVICE. 197 

sonal Christ, — to get acquainted with our Saviour. 
This is paramount; it overtops all else. When the 
death hour conies, in the time when the shadows 
deepen and foundations are tested, one thing, and 
one thing only, will endure the test: the heart that 
knows and loves Jesus will surely find its safe 
hiding-place upon His welcome breast. "Hold that 
fast, then, which thou hast.' 7 At the end of the 
race is the victor's crown, "the crown of righteous- 
ness, which God hath prepared for those that love 
Mini." "Him that overcometh will I make a pil- 
lar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no 
more out " (Rev. iii. 12). 



EXTRACT FROM A SERMON 

PREACHED IN 

THE FIRST UNITARIAN CONGREGATIONAL 
CHURCH, MALDEN, 

on the First Sunday after Vacation, Sept. 6, 1891, 

BY THE 

REV. BENJAMIN H. BAILEY. 



EXTRACT FROM A SERMON. 



The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not 
saved. — Jeremiah viii. 20. 

AM quite sure we shall gain new impulse for 
moral and spiritual enterprise, if we turn to 
finer issues than those that seem to be limited by 
earthly years. The visible world discloses on every 
hand a continuing providence that nothing can dis- 
turb. Shall we contemplate the invisible world of 
thought, purpose, and faith as the Sahara of the 
soul, the desert where the voice of the living God 
is not heard; where no sacred seed is sown, no 
deathless harvests won? All heritage and history, 
as well as immortal hope, are of another sort, and 
are in full token of harvests that cannot pass away, 
the indestructible reapings, the everlasting fruit, 
the eternal rewards of the righteous life, faithful to 
its divine trusts. As in all the years before, so 
this year has seen, since last we met, the soul's 
enterprise here on earth, seemingly, finished, the 
mortal career interrupted, the books sealed. Many 



202 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

lives having little of publicity, but much personal 
worth, known, perhaps, less by men than to God, 
are ended; while others, that shone like stars in 
our firmament, have withdrawn their light; one 
(Lowell) whose great orbit of learning and wisdom 
is well nigh finished; and again, a bright star 
(Corey) " hasting to its setting 7 ' in the well- won 
glory of its brilliant morning hour, — 

" So sinks the daystar in the ocean bed, 
And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky ; " 

but their spirits' power, faith, and love belong to 
history, to humanity, — to God, a part of the eter- 
nal harvest of His divine kingdom. 

The scholar, statesman, poet, whose fame was co- 
extensive with civilization, full of years and hon- 
ors, passes gently to his grave; but so long as the 
echoes of his noble verse shall stir these hills, shall 
his intrepid spirit, early pledged to Liberty's hal- 
lowed service, his royal mind, earnest only for the 
truth, move upon the minds of men. Freedom, 
duty, truth, right, — no trumpet from out the clois- 
ters of the mind since great Milton's day has blown 
a clearer, a nobler, a more triumphant and cheering 
strain. The song can never cease. Such spirit 
can never die, and its harvests are without end. 



EXTRACT FROM A SERMON. 203 

I adjudge it simple justice to couple with the 
name of this eminent deceased American that bright 
spirit of near intellectual kindred to Lowell in ar- 
dent enthusiasm for the best that learning can be- 
stow, — the young scholar, esteemed abroad as well 
as at home, whose sudden and early translation this 
whole community justly mourns. When a youth 
rises by conscientious fidelity to such heights as 
Corey won, he ennobles the place of his nativity. 
His honor is our honor, his success exalts us; and 
every achievement, as he strides on in the shining 
panoply of truth, is a clarion to inspirit generous 
youth, a trumpet note, now sounding sweet and 
clear from the heights of immortal life. To say of 
such career, of such harvest, that it is past because 
the unwearied worker has early gone home, a full 
day's work well done, were to impeach Providence, — 
to say that the great creative mind is careless of its 
choicest offspring, that sedulous only of its earthly 
products it was reckless of those best fitted to in- 
habit its heaven. It cannot be. An endless propa- 
gation of thoughts, wise and good; inspirations, ele- 
vating, uplifting, cheering; ideas that multiply j 
purposes that broaden as they rise into greater light, 
— these are a part of the doom and sacred destiny 
of the immortal and endlessly achieving mind. The 
noble essence, just now here, is not exhaled into 



204 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

nothingness. It has its gathered potencies before 
unknown; into its proper divinity it has entered, 
and feels no more the earthly bounds of its radiant 
force. 

These thoughts should chasten our grief and quell 
an unavailing discontent. Beneath the dense cloud 
of mortal sorrow that overhangs the home we rever- 
ently bow, praying that the Lord of the harvest 
may help the stricken hearts to feel that the disap- 
pointment of earth is a divine appointment, that 
sooner than they thought, — and oh, how different! 
— but far more surely than any this world can give, 
his promotion has come; and the youthful steward, 
faithful with his five talents, has been early found 
worthy to enter into the joy of his Lord. 

" There entertain him all the saints above, 
In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 
That sing, and singing, in their glory move, 
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes." 

Lycidas. 

Friends, I knew not this man save as the wise, 
the good, the pure gave him of their hearts' acclaim ; 
but surely the thoughtful mind, even if not know- 
ing him according to the flesh, must be moved when 
such light changes its place. With reverence for 
his past achievement and faith in his future, I lay 
this chaplet upon this early and honored grave. 



POEMS 



POEMS. 



'THE few poems which follow were found among 
the papers of Dr. Corey, for the most part in 
their original form, with all the erasures mid inter- 
lineations which had been made in the course of 
their growth. Onty three were found in clean 
cpies, and it is probable that even these were not 
in the form in which he would have allowed them 
to be seen. It appears certain that none were con- 
sidered by him as completed; and some were simply 
the first thoughts which he had noted for future 
elaboration. With the exception of a few verbal 
changes, especially in the " Legend of Maiden," 
the copy of which was the most imperfect, they are 
given as the author left them. 

In his busy student-life he had little time for the 
cultivation of the poetic taste, which he undoubt- 
edly possessed, and which in the leisure that would 
have come to him at times in the course of a pro- 
ional life, might have produced something more 
worthy of preservation. Yet these verses are inter- 



208 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

esting as showing the peculiar trend of his mind, 
leading him into the somewhat widely separated 
realms of spirituality and legend. In the transla- 
tion from Horace, he found a congenial subject; and 
his love for country life prompted a diction which 
is as vivid as that of the charming original. His 
muse was characteristic, being like himself straight- 
forward and honest, with little ornamentation. His 
subjects are essentially poetical, and the figures 
which he uses spring naturally and gracefully from 
them. Consequently there is no straining for 
effect. 

" A Face " was apparently the first in the series, 
— perhaps the first which he thought of sufficient 
merit to be placed upon paper. It was written 
while he was at Cambridge. Besides the " Sabbath 
Hymn" and the " Desire of Alfius, " it is not im- 
possible that one or two pieces may be translations; 
but if so, I have not discovered their originals. 



POEMS. 209 



A FACE. 



/ ~PHAT haggard face, it haunts me yet. 

Those weary, careworn eyes, 
From out whose orbs all joy has flown, 
As harsh and cold the world has grown, 
And hope all shattered lies. 

Yet, she was young and fair, perchance, 

As thou, my love, art fair. 
Pleasure and love did her attend; 
Suitors to her sweet will did bend; 

And naught she felt of care. 

Farewell, poor face ; thy journey's close 

Will soon be drawing nigh. 
May some kind friend thy grave prepare, 
As from this weary world of care 

Thy soul shall mount on high. 



14 



210 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

A LEGEND OF MALDEN. 
1775. 

T TNDEK- the sheltering hills stands the ancient 

Puritan farm-house ; 
Mossy its roof, and darkly above hang the broad- 
spreading elm-trees, 
Such as our forefathers loved to plant by the homes 

that they dwelt in. 
Southward, in front, slope the meadows away, while 

down in the valley 
Bubbles the chattering brook in the warm cheery 

sunlight of summer. 
Under this ancient roof lived the men of the past 

generations, 
Serving Grod in their time; and then, w r hen their 

life-work was ended, 
Fell they asleep, leaving their tasks to those better 

able to bear them. 

One bright morning in spring, — 't was that glorious 

nineteenth of April, 
When in defence of their land and the rights that 

they loved as their life-blood 
Stood our forefathers in arms to resist the rule of 

the tyrant, — 



POEMS. 211 

Up toward this house, by the narrow road, came a 

farmer on horseback, 
Andrew Jarvis his name. It was not many months 

since, in autumn, 
He had claimed as his bride, with pride, the eldest 

child of this household. 
Now in the wilderness his home he had made far to 

the westward, 
"Whither his wife had already gone, and in their 

new cabin 
Fondly awaited the coming of him who had vowed 

to protect her. 
Now as he neared the house, endeared by fond 

recollections, 
Smiling, he halted his horse, dismounted and went 

to the well-curb, 
Where so oft in the days of yore he had stood with 

his Mary. 
Kindly the family crowded about him with ques- 
tionings eager. 
When he had slaked his thirst, with laughter he 

took leave of the loved ones, 
Saying, as lightly he sprung to his seat, "Good-by, 

and peace to you. 
Now I go on my way; but ere I reach my clearing 

and Mary, 



212 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Yonder on Lexington plain, I ? 11 have a shot at the 

red-coats. " 
Onward he cheerily rode, his musket slung over his 

shoulder, 
Humming a tune, or thinking of her who was wait- 
ing his coining. 
Thus, near the noon-tide hour, he came to Lexington 

common, 
Where, in the early morn, had been shed the first 

blood in the struggle 
That by the grace of God made the men of this land 

independent. 
Now from the old North Bridge came the British 

regulars fleeing, 
While on flank and in rear, swarming, the brave 

Provincials assailed them. 
True to his word, given lightly, he raised his mus- 
ket; but quickly, 
Ere he could aim, came a bullet piercing his heart, 

and around it 
Gushed the warm life-blood out. A cry and a groan; 

one gasp as he fell! 
Andrew Jarvis was dead, — a martyr fallen for 

Freedom. 
Far away in the woods stood the cabin where sat 

Mary Jarvis, 



POEMS. 213 

Waiting and watching for him whose voice would 

nevermore greet her. 
Round it at night howled the wolves, while by day 

the timid red squirrels 
Chattered and played in the trees, and the cattle 

lowed in the pasture. 
Long watched the fair young wife; but no tidings 

she heard of her husband, 
Till one day came a neighbor with news that was 

bitter to utter. 
" Andrew is slain by the hand of our foe, " were the 

words that he spake. 
Then like a torrent burst forth her grief that no 

mortal could comfort. 
Years passed by; she returned to the home she had 

left with her lover. 
There surrounded by friends she lived in a holy 

calm as of heaven; 
Then when the summons came, her wrinkled hands 

in death were fast folded; 
And by the side of her dead, the aged wife was laid 

by her loved ones. 



214 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 



TO HERACLES. 

/^V HERACLES, thou shadowy mythic shape, 
^-^ Thou ghastly phantom, torment of my life, 
Disgorge the secret that thy name enfolds, 
& HpaKXrj. 

Thou greedy glutton, man of mighty strength, 
Friend of mankind and patient sufferer, 
Whether a sun-myth or an Argive king, 
w Hpa/cA^. 

Relieve my anguish; tell me what thou art; 

Have mercy on my toiling, aching brain; 

And haunt my dreams no more, thou ancient Greek, 



POEMS. 215 

A LEGEND OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 

1453. 

Z^AVEE the beleaguered city 

^^^ Sink the evening shadows low, 

And to prayer with fearful footsteps 

Tearfully the people go, — 
For this day the Christian soldiers 

In their strong defence have quailed; 
And the Turk now stands triumphant 

At the gates so long assailed. 

In the church of St. Sophia, 

Dear to all that mighty throng, 
Kneel in suppliant crowds the faithful 

While is heard the holy song, 
As the priest, in accents gentle, 

Chants the solemn, sacred mass. 
Through the lofty arches murmuring, 

Softly now the echoes pass; 
All the place breathes forth the stillness 

Of a quiet, humble soul, 
Which through ways of calm contentment 

Seeketh the immortal goal. 
Yet, upon this scene of stillness 

Rushes a discordant shout; 



216 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Shrieks are heard, and groans, and war-cries, 

At the portal just without. 
Then, as bursts the pent-up torrent, 

Rush the Turks victorious in, 
While beneath the holy arches 

Echoes loud the battle's din. 
With a fearless mien majestic, 

Slowly comes the holy priest, 
Carrying the sacred vessels 

From the altar's use released, 
Down the aisle, among the faithful, 

To the church's massive wall, 
Which — Oh wonder! — opens, yawning, 

And receives him at his call. 

Long within the ancient city 

Have the Turks held barbarous sway, 
But the church of St. Sophia 

Ne'er has crumbled to decay. 
Though profaned are now its portals 

By the Moslem's slavish tread, 
And the Christians that once loved it, 

Now are numbered with the dead; 
Yet, within his massive prison, 

Still the priest doth chant the psalm, 
Faintly murmuring, never sleeping, 

Ne'er disturbed by war's alarm. 



POEMS. 217 

But when comes the fair-haired conqueror 

From the regions of the North, 
And expels the haughty Moslem, 

From his prison, bursting forth, 
Then will come the ancient Christian 

And take up the broken thread 
Of the mass he once was chanting 

To the crowds that now are dead. 
Then, restored to Christian worship, 

Shall the holy temple be, 
And beneath its ancient arches 

All the people shall be free. 



218 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 



LIFE. 

IV /TAN gropes his way in darkness and in sadness; 

The wished-for good to worthless ashes turns ; 
Fear springs from Hope; fell Sorrow comes from 

Gladness ; 
The way of wisdom all too late he learns. 

He strives long years to win some meed of glory; 

He wins; the boon is hollow, worthless, naught; 
Or else he fails, and then the old, sad story, — 

In vain with manful courage he has fought. 

And are these all, these struggles and these failings, 
These victories where the toil the prize outweighs, 

These aching hearts, these falterings and these 
quailings, 
Are these the sum of all man's earthly days? 

Perish the thought : beneath the woe and sorrow 
Some joy there must be mortal faith to stay; 

The good has still its place ; the glad to-morrow 
Shall more than recompense the ill to-day. 



POEMS. 219 



THE ANGEL OE HADLEY. 

1G75. 

"D RIGHTLY the autumn sun shone down on the 
village of Hadley, 

Kindling to gold with its rays the ripening corn in 
the meadows; 

But in the fields on this day the voice of the plough- 
man was silent; 

For over this town in the wilds impended dread mas- 
sacre's storm-cloud. 

So, as our fathers did when troubles thickened about 
them, 

Here in their wilderness home these pioneers of a 
nation 

Chose them a day set apart for fasting and earnest 
petitions 

Unto the God who had brought them thus far on 
life's perilous journey. 

That in His providence kind He would keep them 
unharmed by the foemen. 

So they sat in the house they had reared for the 
worship of Heaven, — 

Men in the vigor of youth, and graybeards whose 
tottering footsteps 



220 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Lingered awhile on the earth ere they passed to the 
portals of heaven, 

Modest young maidens, too, and matrons with home 
cares encumbered. 

There they listened to him who for years had min- 
istered to them, 

As with the calmness of faith he spoke of his Lord's 
consolations. 

Suddenly broke on the air the sound of the Indian 

warwhoop, 
Filling the people with dread and dismay, like some 

phantom of midnight. 
Seizing their muskets, the yeomen went forth, but 

in fear and confusion; 
Fruitless they strove, till at length there was seen a 

strange apparition; 
Aged his venerable form, yet with vigor and strength 

in its bearing. 
He, like a master of war, took command of the ter- 
rified yeomen; 
Led them with skill to the charge and routed the 

murderous redskins; 
Then, when the battle was won and danger no longer 

was threatening, 
As he had come he vanished from sight, and no man 

knew whither. 



POEMS. 221 

Then in thanksgiving they glorified God who had 

brought them deliverance; 
Who had remembered in mercy His flock, and had to 

His people 
Sent down His angel from heaven to protect and lead 

them to victory. 

We of to-day, in the light that we have from the 
pages of history, 

Know that the angel was only a man who had fled 
to Xew England, 

Hunted from home for his love of the rights of the 
people of England; 

Yet who can say that the God who rules above in 
high heaven 

Sent not this man to His servants on earth in dis- 
tresses and dangers? 

Gone are the days when the angels appeared to the 
prophets and sages; 

But in our days there are angels of God in human- 
ity's fashion, 

Only the eyes of our flesh are holden from clearly 
perceiving, 

So that too often we thrust them aside unheard and 
unheeded. 



222 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

A SABBATH HYMK 

FROM THE GERMAN. 

/^\H sweet repose, which Thou, dear Lord, hast 
^^^ brought us! 

Thou wentest down for me to death's dark night, 

And so didst God's great mercy bring to light; 
Thou hast undone the ill the fall had wrought us; 

Thou on the cross Thy weary eyes didst close. 

I was redeemed, — Spring of sweet repose ! 

Thou couldst not, Conqueror great, in death's grasp 
tarry; 
Death died through Thee, and Thou didst rise 

again ; 
Now can we see God's mercy, great towards men, 
The light to fallen earth's black darkness carry. 
risen Lord, the grave Thy victory knows, 
O victory great ! O Spring of sweet repose ! 

Through Thee were opened heaven's glorious portals ; 
The new creation perfect God did name, 
Thy master-work, from ages God's great aim, 

Salvation great, that poured on us poor mortals. 
Faith, all abashed, for shame its eyes would close, 
Yet clings to Thee, O Spring of sweet repose! 



poems. 223 

Lord, with my heart Thy day to honor teach me, 
Thy Sabbath great, which Thou for rest hast made, 
Till from the grave where my poor dust is laid, 

Thou raisest me where trouble ne'er can reach me; 
Then ever, while my face my rapture shows, 
I '11 gaze on Thee, Thou Spring of sweet repose. 



224 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

SUNSET. 

STOOD by a lake 'neath the woodland's shade 
At the close of a summer day ; 
The wind that had tossed the forest trees 

Had fallen and died away. 
In the west was sinking to rest the sun 

And setting the heavens aglow ; 
And the waters flowed still beneath my gaze, 
As the river of life must flow. 

My thoughts went back to an evening still 

By another far-away lake, 
When they brought of old the sick to Him 

Who spake as never man spake ; 
And He came in mercy and healed their ills, 

With a touch that was full of love ; 
For His hands were filled with a power that came 

From His Father's throne above. 

Jesus ! throned at the right hand of Power, 

Who canst still for men's weak hearts feel, 
Grant us, too, Thy consolations great, 

And all our deep sorrows heal ; 
Do Thou with Thy holiness fill our souls, 

Like the peace of a summer's night, 
In all our blind wanderings be our Guide 

Till we reach Thy throne of light. 



poem<. 225 



THE DREAM OF ^SCHYLUS. 

The subject of this poem is purely fictitious. The scene is 
laid in the Dionysiac Theatre at Athens, on the evening after 
.Ksrlivlus had been defeated, for the first time, in the tragic 
competition by Sophocles. 

'THK theatre's din was stilled; behind the scenes 

In grim despair the poet sat alone. 
To-day his pride was crushed; his lofty hopes 
In ruins lay; to-day an upstart youth 
Had vanquished him who erst had ruled the stage. 
Another now might hold, entranced and hushed, 
The tickle crowd that thronged Athena's town; 
Another hear away the victor's crown, 
The goal of all his hopes. Ah, bitter thought! 
So there he sat and nursed in silent woe 
His wrath and spite. 

The flying hours passed on. 
Time brings its balm for all things; and to him 
Came quiet sleep. The fresh breeze fanned his 
cheeks, 

From sea-girt Salamis across the strait 

Where Persia's power was checked, her pride brought 

low. 
1 1> Blept and dreamed. Now as a careless child, 
In youthful gayety he roamed the fields 
15 



226 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Around Demeter's shrine. He saw again 

The band of Mystse wend their sacred way 

From happy Athens to Eleusis blest. 

The feast of Dionysus, too, he saw, 

The players rude, the simple tragedy. 

He heard, and felt within his breast the call 

To lead poor Tragedy from where she groped, 

Trembling and stumbling, into glorious light. 

Again, at man's estate, he stood in pride, 

Crowned with success, the favorite of the crowd. 

Life was worth living; Dionysus now 

Had truly blessed his servant. Then there came 

Athwart this glory, darkening, blasting all, 

The fearful vision of his late disgrace. 

<( Dionysus," in his sleep he cried, 

" Why this fell stroke, — this awful, cruel woe? 

Thy servant ill deserves thy scorn and spite." 

At this it seemed that down the theatre's slope 
The god himself came in his wondrous car, 
With all his noisy revel-train about, 
And stopped before the stricken poet, and spake : 
" Old friend, 't is no despite, — I love thee still; 
Let nature have her way : the old must yield ; 
The young shall win the prize in art and war." 
He ceased, and from the god's attendants came 
A strain of song divinely clear and sweet: 



poems. 227 

"Think of past glory and fame; 
Frei not thy heart for another's success; 
Not for this fall shall thy praises be less; 
All men shall honor thy name. 

"Greece shall thy memory adore; 
Nations unknown, in the isles of the sea, 
Homage and honor shall offer to thee; 
Cease, then, and fret thee no more." 

The vision passed away; the poet awoke. 
The great, dark pit before him gave no voice. 
He knew that he had dreamed; and yet he felt 
That by the dream his patron god had sent 
A message that should soothe his grief and woe. 
He went his way. His heart was wounded still; 
But now the rankling, stinging pain w r as gone. 
His soul fresh courage took; his rival now 
Might win. He was assured himself of fame. 



228 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 



THE DESIKE OF ALFIUS. 

HORACE : EPODE II. 

T T APPY the man who far from business strife 
and care, 
As were the men of ancient days, 
Ploughs with his steers his fields ancestral free 
from thought 
For usury's mean and troublous ways; 
Who is not by the trumpet harsh aroused to war; 

Who does not fear the angry sea; 
Who shuns the crowded market and the haughty 
doors 
Of richer, greater men than he. 
In peace to growing, clinging tendrils of the vine 

He weds tall, silvery poplar trees ; 
Or in the vale's retreating dells the wandering 
flocks 
Of lowing herds around him sees; 
And, pruning with his hook the dead and useless 
limbs, 
He grafts more fruitful scions there ; 
Or in clean vessels honey, pressed and pure, he 
stores ; 
Or shears his sheep with tender care. 



poems. 229 

Or else, when Autumn, decked with apples ripe, 
his head 
O'er fruitful fields upraises high, 
How he deli glits to pluck the grafted pears and 
grapes 
That emulate the purple dye, 
Which, Priapus, he offer may to thee, and thee, 

Silvanus father, lord of bounds! 
He likes to lie, now 'neath the ancient holm-oak 
tree, 
Now stretched on soft and grassy mounds; 
Meantime, the rivers glide along with channels 
full, 
The birds complain in forest trees, 
And fountains gurgle with upflowing waters soft, 

Inviting to sweet sleep and ease. 
But when the wintry time of mighty thundering 
Jove 
Brings storms and wraps with snow the ground, 
He drives, now here, now there, into besetting 
nets, 
Fierce boars with baying hunting hound; 
Or stretches meshy nets on slender poles along, 

A snare for toothsome field-fare sweet, 
And catches in the noose the trembling hare and 
crane, 
Pleasant rewards for toilers meet. 



230 ARTHUR DELORAINE COREY. 

Who, pray, does not forget, amid these joys the 
ills 

And. cares that love to men doth send? 
Yet, if a modest wife his house and children sweet, 

His labor sharing, carefully doth tend, 
Such as a Sabine, or the sunbrowned rustic wife 

That shares the swift Apulian's love, — 
Who heaps, against the coming of her weary lord, 

Old logs the sacred hearth above ; 
Or shutting in their wicker fold the joyful herd, 

Their udders full of milk to dry; 
Or bringing out a jar of sweet new wine to spread 

A feast that money cannot buy, — 
Give me this life; and Lucrine oysters then I '11 
spurn, 

Or turbot more, or dainty bream, 
If e'er a storm, thundering upon the eastern waves, 

Drives them into our sea's bright gleam. 
No bird of Africa I '11 eat, Ionian quail 

I '11 not esteem so sweet to taste 
As from the richest branches luscious olives culled, 

Or sorrel green in meadows waste, 
Or mallows wholesome to the body racked with 
pain, 

Or, at the Terminalian feast, 
An ewe lamb sacrificial slain or mangled kid 

Recovered from some savage beast. 



POEMS. 231 

Amid such rustic feasts how pleasant 'tis to see 

Iu homeward haste the pastured sheep; 
To see the wearied oxen draw the upturned plow 

With languid Deck o'er hillsides steep, 
While bome-bred slaves, the rich lord's servants. 

near recline, 
And full on them the fitful hearth-fire bright doth 
shine." 

So spake the usurer Alfius, care-oppressed and 
worn; 
A rustic life he M surely lead; 
And on the Ides collected all his goods and 
wealth. — 
N< -\t day, investment sought with greed. 



THE EXD. 



